


The Song of The Sword-Dancer

by AFanGirl



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shadowhunter Chronicles Fusion, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, BAMF Stiles, Gen, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Witcher! Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23593420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFanGirl/pseuds/AFanGirl
Summary: When Scott was bitten by a werewolf, it wasn't the first time Stiles was exposed to the supernaturals.When Stiles was kidnapped by Gerard, it wasn't the first time he was being beaten by a crazy old man.
Comments: 101
Kudos: 268





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction I publish on AO3, and English is not my first language. There'll be grammatical errors and weird.... sentences. I have no idea what I'm doing. But critics are welcomed!

Stiles woke up with a groan. The hit to his head hurt like a motherfucker, and when he tried to rub his head, he noticed that his hands were tied up. His legs too.

Great.

He noticed that he was laid in a heap on the floor. It was rather cold. Scrambled to a sitting position, he then looked around the room, trying to figure out where he was and tried to find an escape route. He saw Erica and Boyd, tied and hanged in the corner of the room, unconscious.

Stiles was tied with a rope, very tightly, he couldn’t even wiggle his wrist. He needed to get them out of there, and to do that he needed his bind off first.

Well then, there’s only one way. He tried to concentrate, he hadn’t done this for quite a while, he just hope he didn’t accidentally summon too big of a flame it would burn himself to death.

“ _Igni,_ ” He whispered. He felt the fire, he waited for the flame to burn his rope, the position didn’t give him the advantage to only burn the rope without hurting himself, but he needed to get out fast.

But of course, luck was not on his side.

The door was slammed open and Gerard Argent entered the room.

“I see you’ve woken up.”

“Ah, so your eyes still work then, gramps?”

There are two of Gerard henchmen standing guard behind him, and Stiles saw a glimpse of another two behind the door before it was closed. Why the need for this many men? Honestly, Stiles was flattered.

“Do I smell something burnt?” Gerard frowned, looking around the room, glancing at the man on his right.

_Crap._

There goes his escape plan. He could try to fight them all, but he hadn’t done this for a while. Fighting humans. Experienced hunter. He didn’t bring his potion. If someone put a bullet through his vital organs, and if he didn’t get help fast, well, it’s game over.

“Maybe you left the stove on? You really need to retire, old man. What if you forget that you kidnap people and left them to die in a freezing cold room?”

The punch that came after that was expected.

“Those mutts aren’t people.” Gerard scoffed.

“Come on. If you need tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum here to do all the hard work, why are you still here then? Afraid of breaking your fragile bones?”

Another punch, by Gerard now.

 _Damn._ Stiles could only wish his feet ran as fast as his mouth.

“You see, I thought you could prove to be useful to me. But you are really just wanted to be punch, aren’t you?”

Before Stiles could whip another retort, he was being punched again. He felt his nose bleeding. It didn’t stop. Gerard also landed a kick to his stomach and managed to step on his leg.

Stiles somehow managed to still hide his unbound hands on his back, while being beaten. He was proud of himself.

He didn’t exactly keep track of how much time has passed while being beaten. Then, one of the hunters that was outside came inside. He told Gerard he knew where Derek was.

Gerard landed one last kick on Stiles’ ribs. Then he turned to the hunter on his right. “You, drop this useless child somewhere, anywhere far from here.”

Then Gerard was gone.

Leaving Stiles alone with tweedle-dee. He nearly whooped in joy when the door was closed behind him. But he tried to stay still until he was certain Gerard was away.

“Well, kid, it seemed now we could have some fun.” Tweedle-dee grabbed Stiles’ chin up, forcing him to look at him straight in the eyes. He must’ve been confused as to why he found Stiles’ face, painted red with blood and bruises, with a full-blown grin.

“ _Axii,_ ” Stiles quickly drew a pattern in the air, letting the green glow fades into the man in front of him.

“Tell me the truth, did Gerard leave you alone here? No other hunter outside?” Stiles asked. Axii was a very, very handy spell. Also scary. He wasn’t particularly fond of this particular spell, but it proved itself useful from time to time. He’s not going to regret learning this spell to its maximum capacity. Well, moral questions later, escape _now._

“Yes, I’m the only hunter he left behind.” Tweedle-dee’s eyes were distant. Face slack.

“Good. Now, release Boyd and Erica,” Stiles instructed. He tried to get up, but ended up falling sideways. He forgot that his legs were still tied up. Adding another bruise due to his own stupidity was _not_ in his escape plan. Stiles asked the hunter for his knife, then cut the ropes.

He let the hunter put Boyd and Erica on the car. He wanted to drive, but his ribs really, really hurts. His whole body was starting to ache too. It wasn’t the _worst_ pain he ever felt in his life, but he couldn’t risk crashing the car and cause further scenes if he ended up passing out. So he told the hunter to drive Erica and Boyd to the Hale house. Stiles recast the Axii to make the compulsion stays longer.

Once they dropped two of the wolves on the Hale house, he told the hunter to park the car in the hospital. Between the hospital and his house was not really that far. He could handle walking there, what he couldn't handle was if his dad found him being dropped at home by a stranger with a body full of injury. 

Stiles turned to look at the hunter one last time.

“Get out of this car, and walk until your feet no longer able to carry you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... thoughts? I kept the tags as vaguely as possible because I still have no idea what's going to happen myself. I'm also undecided with the pairing. And I'm not sure if I'm going to insert characters from The Witcher or not. There might be another fandom that's going to be thrown into the mix as well, but let's see. I'm open to suggestions!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Stiles was ready to walk home from the hospital. He wasn’t expecting his dad to be there, though.

Now, he didn’t know if he should be grateful to have an excuse to not drink the crimson-colored potion that he stored in a box under his bed or not. Because even though it tasted like complete shit and very _very_ nasty, at least he could have his injury healed much faster. Probably would still need to be checked if it healed _right_ , but at least he won’t be subjected to bandages that he needed to change every so often.

The worst part was how worried and broken his father looked at Stiles.

As soon as he was discharged from the hospital, the sheriff basically locked him in his room. Stiles sighed and sat on his desk. Stiles opened the drawer on the left, pulling out a [necklace](https://www.google.com/search?q=witcher+wolf+medallion&safe=strict&rlz=1C1SQJL_enID883ID883&sxsrf=ALeKk01Zy_WUY5A8WSEWM1NBTu-gxw3iFw:1586680966267&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj00vaav-LoAhVv63MBHZXaCC4Q_AUoAXoECA0QAw&biw=1440&bih=827#imgrc=Vnvw-1d9VFykoM). The chain was made from silver, while the pendant was a circle with a wolf head on one side, and a swallow on the other, also made from pure silver. The red-eye of the wolf was made from ruby.

He hadn’t worn the pendant, unless he was outside of Beacon Hills. Because of _reasons_. 

The pendant was humming with magic. Silver was always the best metal to hold magic infusion. He was aware that Beacon Hills, as its name suggested, was a literal magic beacon. A Place of Power. He was aware of what would happen if he stayed here, his mother knew that too. But Beacon Hills was perfect, when the Hales were around. A local werewolf pack running to keep the whole town safe. The land was settled with them there.

Then the fire happened. And not long after that, his mother died.

He was ten at the time. He got his spark, but he was untrained. He waited for the land to suddenly explode or something. He begged his father to leave the land for a while, under the guise of sadness. That he couldn’t stand to be in a house where his mother no longer resided. Well, he didn’t lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. But then, Beacon Hills didn't explode. So he came back.

Stiles was so lost in thought, he didn’t realize that he was no longer alone in his bedroom.

“So, would you like to explain why does Chris Argent drove by your house for a hundred times?”

So, of course, Stiles flailed. Even though his movement was rather limited with his stiff bandages. He gripped his pendant and clutched it to his chest. “Jesus, Peter.”

Peter only smirked. He was lounging in his bed. Like a cat. Stiles was rather questioning his werewolfiness. Stiles was pretty sure that he was a werecat. He could picture his tail was wagging slow and deliberately.

Stiles wondered how long has the man lying there.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles narrowed his eyes. His jaw was fucking sore from the punch. Talking was painful.

Peter smirk was gone when Stiles turned to look at him. “What happened to you?”

“Fell down the stairs,” Stiles muttered, while glaring at Peter.

Peter frowned, before raising his eyebrows. “You’re lying. But your heartbeat is steady.”

Stiles held the urge to roll his eyes. “Then how could you tell I’m lying?”

“Aside from my supernatural-enhanced hearing, I also have a brain, you know.” Stiles could imagine Peter’s tail swishing impatiently, tapping against the bed. He kind of wanting to pat his soft hair.

 _Damn_ , the drugs he’s on didn’t help with his hyperactive thoughts, _at all._

“Why do you care anyway?” Stiles huffed. “Could you go back to your lair, or go back being dead?”

“I’m not a vampire, Stiles.” Peter sighed.

“Oh, my God!” Stiles threw his hand in the air. Causing the chain of his necklace that was still hanging loosely in his hand to hit him in the face. Stiles hated himself. _It stung._

“Who’s the one with ADHD, huh? I thought the conversation was supposed to have a track. And you,” Stiles gestured at Peter. “Have gone off the track.” Stiles wanted to gesture wildly with his hand, but if he moved too much, his ribs hurt. “I have no idea why would Mr. Argent do anything, I have no idea why are you here. Just talk, then go on your merry way and leave me in peace!”

“Are you a witch?” Peter asked suddenly, it made Stiles's brain halt to a stop.

He blinked for a few seconds.

He wasn’t sure if he should be offended or start panicking.

“What?” Stiles asked dumbly. He hoped his heartbeat didn’t decide to jump out of his chest.

A laugh bubbled out of Stiles throat. He didn’t know how much physical pain a laugh could do to someone until that moment. “Ow, fuck, my ribs!”

Stiles tried to stop his laughter, because jostling his broken ribs was not funny. Then, Peter was there, standing in front of him. His hand was warm on his neck, absorbing his pain.

He snorted, then mumbled. “Of course, what am I thinking?”

.

Usually Stiles spends his summer vacation out of Beacon Hills since the death of his mother. Noah didn’t have the same leisure of having a summer holiday, so usually it was just him. In Poland.

Or so his father thought.

Stiles was _this_ close to convince the sheriff to let him heal in his aunt’s house in Poland. But then, Scott chose that unfortunate moment to barge in the Stilinski residence.

At that moment, Stiles was already _considerably_ healed. It was a fast healing, very miraculous _indeed_. He might have drank a few drops of Swallow every day. Since the radio silence from the pack, maybe Stiles thought he could get away for the rest of the summer unnoticed. And if his dad saw that Stiles was getting healthier every day, maybe he’ll let him go.

Then Scott showed up, asking why he was bruised. Then, all the pack knew. He had another werewolf visitor that night. Derek was looking very scowly.

“What happened?” Derek grunted.

“Wow, look at that, you’re putting a question mark at the end of your sentence. Good job.” Stiles couldn’t help himself.

Derek growled. “ _Stiles._ ”

“I’m fine, sourwolf. Nothing to worry about.” Stiles said. Well, Gerard is gone. So, at least there’s nothing to worry about for now, right? Unless… “What? Is there something you haven’t tell me? Is there another big bad in town again?”

Derek was looking all shifty, _heh. Shift-y, get it?_

“I don’t want you involved in this again,” Derek stated.

Yeah, _what?_ “Yeah, what?”

“You’re human,” Derek said, like it was final.

“Yeah, I could see that I’m not a mosquito,” Stiles said really slowly, just to get on the Alpha’s nerves. It seemed like it worked.

“You’re useless. You’re only going to be a hindrance. It’s dangerous, you’ll die for nothing.” Derek said it like he had practice reciting it.

Well, Stiles was beyond annoyed. He couldn’t understand what’s going on in Derek’s mind. “Why don’t you just turn me, then, if you think being a werewolf is all that amazing?”

If he thought about biting other teenagers, making them risking their lives for a literal stranger was a good idea. Why did he never attempted to even ask Stiles himself? After Scott was bitten and that bring Stiles in the knowing circle, why didn’t Derek just offer him? He’s already neck-deep in this shit too anyway.

Not that Stiles would accept. He’s already going trough enough mutation. He never found any journal entry about witchers getting turned into another supernatural being. If he receive the bite, he would most probably die.

But at least Peter did try to ask him! He was insane at that moment, why did Derek with all his sanity not even thought about that? Did Peter already told him that he refused?

Well, if Derek decided to bite him now, it definitely won’t end well for the alpha werewolf.

“No,” Derek grunted.

“No?” Stiles blinked for a few seconds. Well, Stiles … didn’t know how to react to that.

“Just stay out of all this, Stiles.”

Before Stiles could say anything, Derek leaped gracefully out of the window.


	3. Chapter 3

After the showdown at the warehouse, Chris Argent instructed his men to clean the place up, as the procedure demanded. So, all the mess couldn’t be traced to anything supernatural. Then, between all those ruckus, his father managed to slip away.

Honestly, rather than physically tired, Chris was more mentally tired. He wanted to lay in bed and preferable not wake up anymore. His family was messed up, to put it simply. He didn’t like to admit it. He managed to turn a blind eye every so often, but he couldn’t do it now. Not now when Allison was also involved. Knowing all these teenagers as his daughter friends also made things complicated. They were not just a part of supernatural community that needed to be hunt down when mistakes were made. They’re teenagers, teenagers made mistake. Hell, _anyone_ were capable of making mistakes.

Those code, were full of flaws. _We hunt those who hunt us_. It just created an endless cycle of bloody trail.

As soon as he got home, he saw Allison in the kitchen. She hugged him and he hugged her as firmly as possible. They didn’t say anything, they needed a break. They’ll have the talk in the morning. Maybe this summer he’ll take Allison somewhere. France maybe? He still have an apartment in Marseilles, long before he married Victoria. He probably would need to report to the Argent headquarter in Versailles, but he’ll try to avoid that as long as he could. He and Allison needed rest.

He needed to be a better father and also mentor now.

Chris headed to his bathroom and take a hot shower. His muscles are tight. He let the water hit those nerves off then run along his body until his skin were tender, before stepping out of the shower. He wrapped a towel on his waist, before promptly falling on his bed.

He was really done for the day. Once he felt like he was on the edge of consciousness, his phone rang.

_Fucking, dammit._

Chris laid still until the ringing stopped. Then it rang again. He was close to just throw it at the wall, but thought better of it. He stood and reached for his phone in the drawer.

“Argent,” He said to the speaker.

“He’s a witch!” The voice that came trough yelled. Chris drew in a deep breath, trying to not let his anger best him, putting the phone at arm’s length for a moment. He read out the name at his contact, it’s registered as Dennis Benoit. He remembered that he’s one of his father’s men.

“Who’s a witch?” Chris asked.

“The human boy!” It wasn’t hard to deduce that the one he meant was Stiles. But, why? Chris couldn’t even begin to think where did he get that idea.

“He cast a spell on me! He asked me to walk until I can’t anymore! Now I’m in the middle of nowhere. I haven’t seen any vehicle passing by and I couldn’t walk. My legs are trembling.” The man then proceeded to let out litany of curse.

Chris have so many questions. But first things first.

“Where are you?”

.

Chris always thought of Stiles as odd. His loyalty is to be admired, really. That level of loyalty he’s shown was rare.

But he was also stupid, or clever, depending on how you look at it.

If your friend was involved in a dangerous situation, you go to the police. Well, maybe he knew that even if the police knew, they couldn’t do anything about it. But Stiles was the sheriff’s son. He got the connection advantages. Granted, he couldn’t put so much hope in a teenager’s logic, but still. Stiles could at least _try_. Instead, he was adamant not to let his father know.

If your friend was bitten by a wolf, you either worry about rabies or you tease them. Instead, Stiles found out that there were no wolves in California. Then promptly researching werewolves. He wanted to say that the kid was downright nuts, but how could he say that if he’s not wrong?

Dennis had told Chris about the kidnapping. Dennis had tried to contact Gerard, but his father hadn’t answered. So, he contacted Chris. He was angry at himself for not being aware of his father kidnapping teenagers. Well, he expected the werewolf. Even though he wasn’t approving that. But who’s he to approve what his father was doing? Kidnapping a human teenager and beating him up was another thing though. Even if the human turn out to possibly be not-so-human.

If Stiles was aware of the existence of supernatural creature from the beginning, well his action would make sense. A little. There’s the matter of a witch nature. Witches weren’t exactly a social creature outside of their coven. They’re also vicious to someone who offend them.

But Stiles seemed _content_ acting like a helpless human. Didn’t protest when he was being pushed nor threatened.

Chris drove around the Stilinski house. He found out that there was no one home yet. He remembered about Dennis statement, that he was from the hospital. So he parked in a street away from the house that Stiles would probably walk across. But surely, if Dennis managed to walk that _far_ in matter of hours, surely Stiles would already be home.

He took his eyes away from the street for a moment, checking at the time. It was one in the morning. _Huh_.

He turned to look at the street again and found Peter Hale with his annoying smirk standing in front of his SUV.

Only years of training stopped him from jumping in his seat, cursing his lives off and promptly die from heart attack. He could stop his reaction, though, his heart did jump a little. He couldn’t stop that.

He’s tempted to hit Peter with the car just a little bit. But then Peter walked around his car and knocked on his window before he could do that.

“Christoper,” Peter said. His voice was muffled by the glass, but still recognizable.

Nope, Chris won’t open the window.

“Come on, open the window,” Peter _nagged_. _Like a child._ The wolf knew where to push his wrong buttons. “I could stand here all night. Or morning, whatever. Do you want me to sit on the roof of your car?”

Chris scoffed. “Yeah? Try it.”

Chris completely forgot that if he could hear Peter, then Peter would most definitely be able to hear him too.

“Ooh, you could hear me,” Peter said. “Now, would you be so kind to tell me what you are doing here?”

Chris looked at the window to snap at Peter, but Peter’s face was _right in front of him_. Well, they’re still separated by the glass, but the proximity was still making Chris a little uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you tell _me,_ what are _you_ doing here?” Chris challenged.

“Well, the only logical answer to that, is to visit little Stiles, don’t you think?” Peter smirk never left his face. “This is a residential area, and the closest house from where we are is the sheriff’s house.”

“Why do you even ask me, then?” Chris raised his eyebrow.

“Ah, so you _are_ here for Stiles, huh?” Peter nodded his head with a contemplating expression. “Have you noticed the hour?”

Chris narrowed his eyes. “Just say your piece, then go. We don’t need to waste time.”

“I asked the first question, Christopher,” Peter drawled. The smirk was still there, but his eyes lost the playful glint.

Chris stared at Peter, unwavering. Two could play at this game.

It was a full minute of uncomfortable staring, before finally Peter say something again. “I thought maybe, the two of us being here is not a coincidence. Maybe, we both are looking for the same answer.”

Chris stood his ground.

Peter rolled his eyes, before sighing. “Okay, I just came from the Hale house and found Erica and Boyd’s scent. You know, my nephew’s teenage betas who were supposedly leaving the town since days prior. And strangely, I found a hunter scent there too. Also, another scent, very _very_ faint, but it was there. Guess whose?”

Chris rest his head on the seat and sighed. “Stiles’.”

Peter let out a huff of breath that might be a half-hearted laugh. “Care to explain that, Christopher?”

Chris closed his eyes and quickly recounted on what happened to Dennis. By the end of his explanation, Peter was no longer half crouching to put his face right in front of Chris. He took a step back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Chris couldn’t make out what Peter was saying, but then the werewolf was walking away from him.

Now Chris rolled down his window. “Where are you going?”

Peter turned and face him, throwing him a smirk.

“Well, of course I’m going to ask our little witch-man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am unexpectedly enjoying writing things in Chris' POV.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess who's Stiles Aunt is? ;)

Stiles had this idea, that if he left Beacon Hills right after Derek told him to fuck off, the pack would probably panic.

Or not.

Because it wasn’t like he’s missing. He’s out of Beacon Hills on every summer wasn’t a rare occurrence. Scott and his Dad knew where he was, sort of.

Well, the fact that Derek was an asshole to him at night and in the immediate morning he was gone had no relevancy at all.

Derek was an ungrateful bastard. He freaking held him for two hours in the goddamn pool, then he called him a hindrance. He saved Erica and Boyd and he called him useless? Well, he wouldn’t know about that because Stiles didn’t even touch Boyd and Erica, so his scent would less likely to linger. But still!

Stiles was fuming the whole time, he didn’t even realized that he had arrived at his Aunt’s doorstep. It was a feat, sitting while fuming for twelve hours on the flight. He was pretty sure that he omitted killing intent, with a scowl plastered on his face the whole time and that was what made people stay clear of him.

Good things those mutation did to him. Witchers weren’t supposed to show emotions. Witchers were what a mutant hunter that could wield simple magic were called. The simple magic were called Signs. There were five signs. Igni which summons the fire, Quen which is a force field of magical shield, Axii which gave them the power of compulsion not unlike what the vampires got, Yrden that acted as a magical trap, and Aard which summons a forceful wind. The mutation made the human body more resilient toward physical attacks and magical. Resilient is the key word. Witchers wasn’t immortal, they got hurt and they could die.

Which was where the potions came. These potion could be dangerous if a regular human without the mutated metabolism drank them, because they were made from high doses of poisonous herbs and other ingredients. There were different potions with different purpose. Since the potion were poisonous, he couldn't drink them all in one go either, or it would end in death. A very slow and painful death.

This mutation also made witchers infertile and void of emotions.

Even though of course there were exception, like the famed Geralt of Rivia. The mutation didn’t always work, mostly it killed people, much less worked the _right_ way. But even though what happened to Geralt was a rare phenomenon, it also happened to Stiles. No, his hair didn’t turn white. He felt emotions and he still had the ADHD. He was pretty sure he was the only witcher in history who got the jitters.

But, he did know why the mutation reacted the way it was with him.

His spark.

Sparks were rare. The magical community knew so little of them. While mages were also rare, spark was another matter. Untrained spark could easily destroy the whole city. Even as a toddler. Easily died because of the unawareness of their own being. But that’s all people know. Didn’t really have a concrete record of who’s the first spark. Why sparks were rare. How could you identify a spark. What trigger the occurrence of a spark.

Well, the reason for that was because it was kind of lost in translation. What trigger a spark in someone was easily explained by blood. Sparks were inherited by blood. People simply started calling them spark because their magic looked spark- _y_. You know, like when two metal are being ground together it create sparks? Yeah, those.

The term was lost because the language they first started to describe the sparks was also lost. And if you want to be scientifically correct, you could call the sparks as _Hen Ichaer._ The sparks they carry was the Elder Blood.

Sparks were first created after the union of an elven sorceress and a human mage.

Elves were seen as a mythical being even in the magical community, as was angels simply because they live on another plane of existence. Another dimensions. And even though faeries were also living on another dimensions, they still actively blending with the human society. The elves started to really cut off their involvement since the renaissance. Thus why the knowledge was getting lost.

Why did Stiles knew all that, you ask?

Well, aside from his devilishly genius brain and awesome research capability, he had a reliable source.

Stiles hand was raised to knock the door to his aunt’s house, but he hadn’t had the chance to do that when the door swung open.

“Care to explain?” His aunt asked. She was using a dark green blouse that complemented her green eyes and a knee length white flowery skirt. Her long red hair were tied up in a bun. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, while raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Aunt Triss, may I get in first, before you start the interrogation?” Stiles rolled his eyes. They had a staring contest for a minute before they broke into a grin and hugged each other.

“Ah, I’ve missed you!” Stiles grumbled.

Triss Merigold chuckled. “I missed you too, honey.”

Stiles only had his backpack, since his clothes in his aunt’s house were plenty enough. As soon as Stiles stepped into the living room. He was told to sit down by Triss.

“Now, your father mentioned that you were beaten by the opposing lacrosse team. But I’m pretty sure that was not the case,” Triss said. She looked at Stiles with a contemplating expression. “Also, your father told me that you were gone without telling him. I told him you’re already on your way here and that I already bought your ticket. Glad that you’re not actually being kidnapped. Why didn't you even inform me?”

"Sorry, my head wasn't in the right place." Stiles said, looking down because what he did was stupid. And also childish. Then, Stiles chuckled nervously, shuffling from foot to foot. He started to ramble. “And, uh, yeah, actually. I was kidnapped. It just didn't happen last night, more like, last week.” 

“What?!” Triss exclaimed. Before she started to fuss about him, Stiles explained the whole thing that had happened in the past few months. It was relieving to say the least. He really wanted to rant to someone who knew both about the pack and his ... secret identity.

“Well, if you out yourself as a magic user, it would draw more attention. _Far_ more attention.” Triss began. “But, you don’t have to act completely defenseless either.”

“I didn’t _act_ defenseless. I completely failed to expect anyone want to kidnap me. Before that, I barely gotten hurt.” Stiles shrugged. If he was a regular human, he must have had numerous injury over the way the werewolves treat him. Well, he did have injuries, but it wasn’t as bad. “The hunter have guns, I couldn’t use my magic, lest they know I’m something!”

“It’s settled then, we should get you more weapon training again this summer.” Triss stated. “Now, go rest in your room, we'll talk after breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of explanation of witcher stuff here for you who didn't know the witcher fandom. I only play the game and haven't watch the tv show nor i have read the book. I will definitely add another fandom later to support the plot, but i'll try to explain what's what as best as i could.
> 
> Leave your thoughts below and kudos are highly appreciated. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Triss Merigold wasn’t Stiles aunt by blood. But she was her mother’s mentor. Claudia was orphaned, and it’s easier to tell Noah that they were sisters rather than a mentor and disciple. They kinda grew fond of each other to drop the pretense. She was also one of the sorceresses who mentored Stiles’ great-great-grandmother, Cirilla. Now she mentored him. Though because of the mutation, his magic wasn’t as powerful as those before him, but he was still powerful. His Signs were also far more powerful than that of regular witchers, so there’s that. He just needed extra effort to cast another complicated spells than other sparks as Triss explained to him.

Triss is over 800 years old by now, even though her look was no older than 30. There were only a handful of people who knew her as a mage, most people knew her as a regular witch, because it was easier and safer that way.

“So, do you know anyone who could teach me to handle guns?” Stiles asked as soon as he descended from his room upstairs. Triss was in the kitchen, making pancakes.

The teen stood beside her and quickly helped her. She already made the batter and ready to fry it on the pan, so Stiles readied the plate and the syrup and the berries that Triss preferred with her pancake. Stiles loves bacon with his and there’s no his father there so he won’t feel guilty. He took the bacon out of the fridge and set it on the counter.

Triss hummed for a moment. “Well, no. But I might know someone who might know someone.”

Stiles threw her a glare. “Don’t act so mysteriously like that.”

“Well, I am a mage. We like to keep things entertaining,” Triss grinned.

“Ugh, have I told you about the druid in Beacon Hills? Don’t remind me of him by being cryptic.” Stiles huffed. The red haired sorceress chuckled, flipping the pancake.

“I’m not trying to be mysterious, it’s just that there was a witch asking for a slyzard bones. You know how rare that is and I didn’t think paying with money would be worth it.” Triss stacked the pancake on the plate, and poured another batch. “So, I asked a favor in return. I heard this witch was pretty powerful and famous too, and she had a contact to a very capable hunter. I could ask her to ask their contact to teach you.”

“A hunter?” Stiles looked at her and flailed his hand. Barely missing the pancake batter. His aunt threw him an unimpressed look. “What kind of hunter being chummy with a witch? Do you mean the shadowhunters?”

“No, you know they don’t use guns.”

“Well, it’s been two years since I’ve visited the Institute, things could change!” Stiles mumbled, shoving grapefruits in his mouth.

“This witch name is Rowena. I heard she is in the hunter’s good grace. This hunter name is Winchester.” Triss explained. Stiles chocked.

Triss sputtered and helped patting Stiles’ back.

“Winchester?! Those Winchesters?” Stiles asked after a moment, face soured.

Triss was on the last batch of the pancakes. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know! The hunter. _The Hunter._ They’re like the John Wick of supernatural community.” Stiles yelped.

“John Wick?” Triss tilted her head, raising both eyebrows.

“Yes, John-You haven’t watch the movies? We are definitely watching them, right now!” Stiles fussed. But then he remembered what got him so worked up. “The Winchester are like--scary. Beyond scary. They’re like the monster that supernatural children were being told about in their bedtime story to make them behave.”

Triss shrugged, now frying the bacon. “Well, isn’t that the definition of a regular hunter is?”

“No, no, you don’t get it,” Stiles groaned, then putting his head on the counter. “Ugh.”

“Look, if they are _that_ scary, then it’s a good thing if you’re to train with them,” Triss said while flipping the bacon.

“Or they could kill me,” Stiles grumbled. “I’m seventeen! And a virgin! I’m not eager to knock on Death’s door. How am I a virgin? I’m a witcher, people are supposed to throw themselves at me! Is there a witcher who died a virgin?”

Triss wrinkled her nose at him, giving him the stink eye. “Stiles, if you could pass as a regular human under the nose of a pack of wolves and a group of experienced hunter for months, I think you could pass under their nose for summer.”

Stiles grumbled. Triss sighed, “Look, I’m not going to force you. I just thought it would be an amazing opportunity. If you don’t want to, we could always sign you up for a self-defense class for the moment.”

.

After breakfast, Triss instructed Stiles to warm up his magic by tending the garden. Triss had a vast collection of herbs, rare or not, that were used in potion making and spells. The garden was vast too. How could she had a garden in the middle of Krakow, you asked?

Well, Triss said she inherited the land since the 13th century when she was a mage adviser for the Kingdom of Kovir. When the kingdom fell, she surrounded the place in magical barrier that concealed her whole manor, so regular people wouldn’t be able to trespass nor see it. The whole block of building was basically a strong magical illusion. After you get pass those, which is if you go out to the backdoor of Triss’s apartment. you see an entirely different view.

The garden had areas for different type of plants. Triss divided them with barriers in what kind of temperature these plants lived on. These barriers needed to be maintained at least once in every few months. Stiles maintained these barriers as instructed. It was easy to do, but it did took a great deal of energy. Stiles could feel himself sweats already.

After helping her with the garden, he went to the shop. They would continue Stiles’s practice after Triss was done with her potions. Stiles wasn’t very gifted in alchemy and potion, honestly. It required a great deal of discipline and precision. Stiles was a more … creative person, and following certain rules had always been a problem for him. He passed the theoretical test, of course, but he sucked at the execution.

Triss had a magic shop, selling herbs and crystals and everything. Her magic shop was… unique. It was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. The shop was located in a ‘pocket’ dimension courtesy of his ancestor Cirilla. You could access this dimension if you know where to look. The front door system was not unlike the Anywhere Door from that Japanese anime _Doraemon._ It was a type of fixed portal. It was far more stable than a regular portal. It was safer and a _lot_ more comfortable than the regular ones.

The shop was quiet this time, so Stiles brought his laptop and boot it up. He hadn’t contacted anyone on the Beacon Hills aside from his dad. He apologized for going without permission and he endured his lecture.

Stiles hadn’t even thought about telling his father the truth after his mother passing. He honestly thought that he wouldn’t have anything to do with the supernatural community outside of his magical summer getaway. But, it seemed that the problem in Beacon Hills won’t go anywhere anytime soon, so maybe he’ll need to tell his father about it. He’ll consult Triss later.

Now, Stiles opened his browser. Well, what Triss said had been true. It _was_ a great opportunity. The Winchesters were scary and experienced, he could learn a great deal from them. If they agreed and didn’t decide to kill him, that was.

Being a witcher in 21st century wasn’t as glorious as it could be. There were hunters everywhere capable of killing ‘monsters’ now. You don’t have to be a mutant to do that. But the thing was, the monsters now also had evolved, thanks to mages and alchemists of the past. Since the last known witcher died and no one was capable of handling these monsters.

Now monsters weren’t as dangerous as they were in medieval time. The closest they got to their medieval counterpart was when they were in their feral state.

The only witcher- _y_ job Stiles took on nowadays were lifting curses. Apparently monsters evolved, but witches did not. But of course, he’ll charge for his services. It wasn’t a bad summer part-time job. Triss put on a good word of him in the community at first. Because who the fuck would believe a teenager was capable of that? But Stiles had done it since he was thirteen and he had made quite a name for himself.

He emailed some regular costumers of the shop who had exchanged contact with him. Also another handful of _his_ own costumer. The only information he got of the Winchester wasn’t exactly up to date. He mostly remembered it from the conversation from last summer with the costumers. He needed confirmation, because the thing he heard were straight up nuts.

Then he tried to google them. Because, _hey, maybe they got social media?_

Stiles ended up opening Facebook and chatting with Scott, because he was online. He raised an eyebrow, he thought Scott would spent all summer bonding with his not-girlfriend-Allison. So, of course Stiles teased him about it. Then Scott tell him that Allison was in France with her dad.

_Ah, so that’s why._

Stiles wanted to ask Scott further about what happened in Beacon Hills. Had Derek told him about Erica or Boyd, but the shop’s bell was ringing.

“Welcome to Merigold’s! How can I help you?” Stiles said cheerily as he shut his laptop. His eyes widen when he saw the two person walking through the front door.

In his panic he cast his strongest illusion he got and prayed to whatever higher power there was that was listening and hoped it worked. Well, he knew his magic would work but he definitely needed a little bit acting to convince them.

“Stiles?”

Allison and Chris Argent entered the shop, staring at him wide-eyed.

Stiles tried his best to turn his charm on two hundred percent, because it’s show time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave comments and kudos! Because I crave attention and internet validation ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Chris put the Stiles problem to the side. He’ll deal with the teen after summer break. He took Allison two days later to Marseilles. He rented a car, because it was easier to travel that way. They spent a whole five weekdays before Chris got a summoning from the headquarter.

Chris stared at his phone and sighed, he wasn’t looking forward to this at all. 

  
“What’s wrong, dad?” Allison tapped him on the shoulder, when she looked at her father hesitance she reminded him. “No more secrets, remember?”

“They summoned us to the headquarter,” Chris told her

Allison raised both of her eyebrows, “Headquarter? Of course, we have a headquarter.”

“Yeah,” Chris sighed again. “I was hoping you won’t have to have this life. But they now know that you’re already in, it’ll be hard for you to get out.”

“I don’t want out,” Allison stated firmly. She sat down on the sofa in the living room of their apartment in Marseilles. “I don’t want to turn a blind eye anymore. There’s a lot of bad things happened these past few months. But we could make things better! Werewolves and ... everything else, they’re living being too. They’re not monsters! I want to learn more about them and about my legacy.”

Chris looked at her daughter and saw her determined expression. He couldn’t help the twinge in his chest, he’s proud of her to think that way. “You’ll make a great Matriarch.”

Allison nodded. “We’ll need to change a lot of rules. And our code.

Chris couldn’t help but thought about his late wife. He couldn’t help but thought about what would happen if she didn’t choose to live by the code through her last breath.

Chris and Victoria didn’t marry because of love, but it didn’t mean that they didn’t grow to love each other after that. Even though there was always a strain between their relationship, because it was always The Code about all else. They live their entire life knowing that if something were about to happen, they’ll threw everything else aside and obeyed what the protocol demanded. Just like how it eventually ended Victoria life. The bite didn’t kill her, it’s those stupid code.

There must be something showing on Chris face, because suddenly he was engulfed in hug by his daughter. He hugged her back as tightly, burrowing his face on her hair. 

If Allison wanted to do this, it wouldn’t be easy. He would make sure to be there to support her every step of the way. 

.

They rode to Versailles the next day. The headquarter was a whole building in the less crowded district. On the first floor there was various shops that were both a cover and provided additional money to keep the hunting business running. 

Allison was showing a particular interest toward one of the tailor shop. Chris raised an eyebrow.

Allison shrugged, “Kinda reminded me of Stiles. He took me and Scott watching this spy movie where there’s a secret entrance in a tailor shop.”

Well, now he remembered the thing with Stiles again. He hadn’t tell Allison about the kidnapping. Maybe after this.

Since Gerard was missing and the only Argent left was Chris and Allison. Of course there would be more pressing matter that would be shoved to his daughter’s shoulder, so forgive him for not being eager to add another one on her. 

The headquarter was now led by one of Gerard’s. So of course, Chris and Allison was wary of her. She was adamant that Allison needed to be trained privately for a year at the very least. Allison convinced her that experience was a great teacher and to let her on a hunt with other hunters and learn from them that way. There were another handful of hunters that seemed free of Gerard’s influenced who nodded at Allison’s request.

In the end they concluded that Allison should spent her time training on the headquarter when there was no “easy level” hunt. Then they proceed to herd her on the training room to test her skill and develop a learning plan after that. Chris deemed it safe enough, so he’s catching up with the other hunters. 

They offered condolences over Victoria, Chris only gave them a polite nod. Then they started to exchange information and stories about their most interesting hunts. These people were talking about their hunt as if it were a fun thing to do. Chris couldn’t understand that. Hunting with Gerard hovering over his shoulder was not something he’d call fun. Mostly he didn’t feel anything at all. It’s just something his father told him to do.

Chris wondered when did he lost his reasoning in being a hunter. He used to feel like most of them, thinking that hunting was a noble job. No, not job, it’s more like a way of life. Because you couldn't exactly quit the life. Even if you could, it won't be easy.

One of the hunters was sharing a story about hunting a witch. Chris listened carefully, then asking them if they ever met a witch that could control people mind without preparing for a hex bag. Everyone of them shook their head and frowned, all except one.

“I think you just found yourself a warlock or a mage,” the blonde hunter told Chris.

“A witch is a witch, you don’t have to make it complicated.” Another hunter said, rolling his eyes.

“You go out hunting with that mindset? I’m shocked you’re still alive,” the blonde hunter scoffed. “Look, a witch is hard enough to kill using a special witch-killing bullet. I heard that warlocks are half-demons, some of them got horns, tails, wings, have a blue skin color, have scales, the variety are endless! The thing is, they’re immortal and I’ve never heard any human hunter ever killed one. Mages are even more rare, because they’re like this super strong human magic user that were as strong as a warlock, or even stronger.”

“Half-demons? Demons are not real.” One of the other hunters said.

“Werewolves and magics aren’t real either,” Chris couldn’t help but to sneer. “Then, if what I found is a warlock or a mage, what’s the best way to ... handle them?”

“Warlocks and mages usually likes to keep to themselves, they don’t actively trying to cause harm to humans either. I mean with those power? You could easily overthrow the human government, man. They’re dangerous and not to be trifled with. The best you could do is talk to them and work a way out.”

Chris didn’t expect that answer. “And what’s your source? You seemed to be very sure of this information.”

The blonde hunter looked a bit sheepish. “Uh, I’ve met a few of them. They make a valuable ally ”

“Seriously? You make an ally of some half-demon?” 

Chris was tempted to strangle the other narrow minded hunters.

“You remember that hybrid wolfsbane you ask me? The one that could easily kill an Alpha werewolf even though you only shot it in the legs, which is nowhere near its vital organ? That’s a crappy fucking shoot, by the way. My 10 year old son could shoot better than that.” The blonde hunter glared at that hunter. “I bought it from her. And this one is a mage by the way. Call her a warlock and that’ll offend her. They could sell anyone anything with a price. And that wolfsbane was crazy expensive! Remember your debt, or I might shoot you.”

“Can I get her contact?” Chris found himself asking. 

.

Chris and Allison were given a room next to each other in headquarter. They were to stay there the whole summer.

Well, actually just Allison, to make it easier for her to get her training.

Three days later, Chris found himself flipping the business card the blonde hunter give it to him. It wasn’t far from the headquarter, surprisingly. The hunter told him that it looked like a florist shop from the outside, but he’ll find something else entirely when he entered the shop.

The business card was simple with a name and an address. Triss Merigold.

There wasn’t any assignment for Chris, so he mostly spend his day helping to mentor Allison. It won’t hurt to check this mage, right? As long as he didn’t somehow offend her. Maybe he’ll also stock some of his wolfsbane and mountain ash.

Chris decided to go visit her. He grabbed his wallet and made sure his knives and his gun are tucked where they belong. He didn’t want to start a fight he might lose, but the weapons were there just to make him feel better. 

He ran into Allison on the elevator. “Oh, hey, dad! Where are you going?”

“Checking something, wanna come?” Chris asked. 

Allison got her hair cut short yesterday, because long hair kind of getting in her way when she had a hand-to-hand fight training.

“Are you in a hurry? Because I wanna change my clothes first.” Allison said. She was in her training gear. A simple legging and tank top. 

"No, go change. Take your time."

She was back in another 10 minutes, wearing a khaki smock dress and short legging and a combat boots, and she brought a small shoulder bag. She grabbed her father arm.

"We’re walking?” She asked.

“Yes, it’s not far from here,” Chris told her.

“Is there anything I need to know about what you’re checking on?” Allison’s eyes roamed the street. Checking anything that might caught her interest. 

Chris told her about what the blonde hunter told him, the simplify version of course. He also didn’t mention about his suspicion over Stiles. He might have failed to tell her about the kidnapping yet again.

“Well, she could be a valuable ally. But, didn’t you say that they like to keep to themselves?” Allison asked. “Would they feel ... I don’t know, violated, if we just barged in?”

“He said that this Triss Merigold opened her shop for a reason. If she doesn’t want to accept us as costumer, we won’t find her.” Chris explained. He wouldn’t feel too disappointed if he didn’t manage to find her. He was still unsure what he’ll ask if he did manage to find her.

They arrived in front of a florist after fifteen minutes of walking. The shop seemed crowded with people. There was a sandblast of a marigold design on the door. Chris opened the door.

Well, here goes nothing.

He heard bell ringing, and a familiar cheerful sound greeting him.

“Welcome to Merigold’s! How can I help you?”

As soon as Chris got inside the shop, he immediately could tell that he had somehow ended somewhere else. Because there was no one in the shop, except the one who manned the front desk. He also found that there was no window in the shop at all.

“Stiles?” He couldn’t help himself. He might be hoping to find some answer about Stiles, not finding Stiles himself.

Allison tugged at Chris shirt. “I don’t think that’s Stiles, even though they look vaguely similar.”

Chris was pretty sure it was Stiles, but he took a few steps forward and he could see the difference. The shop didn’t have a good lighting, okay?

The boy’s eyes wasn’t whiskey brown but rather yellow and slitted. Not unlike a cat’s. And the moles that splattered his skin was actually scales. His nose wasn’t upturned like Stiles’, it was Grecian. His skin wasn’t pale and milky white, but it was rather white like a marble. He look like a statue, the warm color on him seemed to be only a play of light.

But, still, Chris was suspicious. He lived in a world where magic is a real thing. It wasn’t impossible to find the teen only by thinking. He could be Stiles. Somehow.

“What’s a Stiles?” He asked. Or purred. Or was that a hissing? It was a complicated sound. He couldn’t think of a creature with a sound like that.

Allison answered for him, she had a dimpled smile spread on her face. “Stiles’ a friend. You reminded us of him.”

“Ooh, a friend, huh?” The boy said while wiggling a suggestive eyebrows. “Is he cute, like me?”

“Nah, you’re a lot cuter,” Allison told him easily. 

The boy made an exaggerated flattered noise, but Chris caught something. He’s pretty sure the boy was a little bit offended too. Or was he imagining things?

Come on, Chris you're a hunter, stop doubting yourself.

"Now, how can I help you? You need herbs? Potions? Hex bags? We got it all," the boy said while spreading his arm theatrically. 

"Are you Triss Merigold?" Chris found himself asking.

The boy sputtered and almost knocked a vase on the desk. Those level of clumsiness really didn't help convincing Chris that he wasn't Stiles. 

"Do I look like a Triss Merigold?" He looked at Chris with an offended face.

"No, you look like a Stiles," Chris said. He could feel Allison looking at him with eyebrows raised high.

"Do you have problem with this Stiles?" The boy asked, he's raising one of his eyebrows. He put a palm under his chin and leaning against the desk. Staring right at Chris' eyes. Or lips? Was the boy looking at his lips?

"You didn't outright deny that you're not Stiles," Chris pointed out. He'll try to make him confess, because he definitely could be Stiles.

And Stiles could be a powerful warlock and Chris was pushing him. If he snapped, well, Chris would be doomed. Probably Allison too. He didn't want to risk that. Should he just drop it?

The teenager hummed. Then slithered to where Chris stood from his place behind the counter. Chris really would like to know how the fuck could a human feet do that? "My name is Mieczysław. You know, if you just want to know my name, you could just ask me."

Yeah, of course, just ask his name, that's simple.

"You're way of flirting is adorable. Wanna grab a dinner? I'll make sure you forget this Stiles." He purred, placing a hand on his shirt collar, and _what?!_

Chris brain halted to a stop.

"Uh, dad and I are here just to buy a few of wolfsbane and mountain ash," Allison offered. She glanced at her father and ... Mieczysław? Really?

"Ooh, yes, you and your daddy need- wait! You're already in a relationship? Well, forgive me-" Mieczysław quickly let go of his hold on Chris as if he was on fire.

"No!" Allison cried. Her face was wrinkled in horror. "He's my dad, as in he's my father. You know?! The one who sired me!"

"Oh," Mieczysław blinked. Then, he turned back toward Chris, a predatory smile was plastered on his face, he fluttered his eyelashes in a supposedly flirty manner. "Can I call you daddy, too?"

Chris stopped thinking and just... he just needed to stop everything.

"You know what, we'll look for another place. Come, Allison." Chris said, quickly turning around and go out of the door without sparing a backward glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give the title The Song of The Sword-Dancer simply because it was one of my favorite Witcher 3 soundtrack. But then I googled Stiles real name spelling and then I found out that his name came from miecze which means sword, so I guess it was just meant to be! Ahahaha


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles had a motto.

When in doubt be Magnus Bane.

He only met the warlock twice, when he was eight, but he had a personality like no other. He entered the room with a bang and exited the room with a flair that would put Peter Hale to shame. Because of it, usually people didn’t bother to look further behind what’s shown at the front.

What would Magnus Bane do when he met a gorgeous blue-eyed black haired hunter?

Flirt.

Yeah, Stiles could totally do that. Not like flirting to your best-friend’s not-girlfriend dad right in front of said best-friend’s not-girlfriend wasn’t weird. No pressure at all. He got this.

Stiles tried to check him out subtly, but it seemed like the hunter didn’t even notice it. Then he tried to maintain eye-contact and stared at the man’s lips in an obvious manner, while licking his own lips exaggeratedly. He’s sure that he won’t look _actually_ enticing, But, he needed to make a clear move.

The hunter seemed oblivious until Stiles actually needed to say the word. His hand skipped lightly on Chris’s firm chest, before grabbing his shirt collar lightly. He couldn’t deny that the hunter’s reaction was entertaining.

Chris’ face was red either from being embarrassed or offended. His usually stoic expression looked unguarded for a split second, before it’s gone again and he left.

Allison was looking at her father who had left and Stiles for a second, Stiles put on a disappointed face and turned to her. “If your father changes his mind, I’m waiting right here.”

Allison just gave him a nod before scurrying out.

As soon as the huntress left the shop, Stiles dropped his illusion. “Oh my God.”

Stiles really wanted to laugh, but he just felt relieved. He just hope that Chris bought it. Then he remember Peter told him that Chris Argent drove around Stiles’ house.

Well, at least he tried. He really was hoping to not being forcefully reveal his secret. He wanted to tell the pack by his own choice. And he definitely didn’t want the pack to know before his dad.

“Do you want to tell me why’d you scare my potential costumers away?” Triss was leaning on the door frame that lead to the shop’s brewing lab.

“No.” Stiles grumbled. “Did you hear all that?”

“The walls here are quite thin, Stiles.” One of her eyebrow were raised. A slow smile forming on her lips. “Was he _that_ handsome, that you really have to flirt in a aggressively poor manner?”

“Ugh.” Stiles buried his face on his palms. “That was Chris Argent and Allison Argent.”

Triss let out an interested sound. “The ones from Beacon Hills?”

Stiles nodded solemnly. “I’m trying to make them leave, because I think Chris was aware that something’s up.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” Stiles shook his head and sighed. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“If you say so,”

“Go back to brewing, Auntie.” Stiles groaned.

“What do you think I am? A wight?” Triss eyed him with distaste. “I think making potions would actually do some good. Relax your mind, come on. It’s an easy vampire-repellent concoction, not unlike Black Blood that you witchers use. I bet you wouldn’t be able to screw this one.”

The teen narrowed his eyes at his aunt, because really? Not screwing things? Stiles would definitely take that as a challenge.

.

The following week proved to be uneventful. Stiles usually looked forward to his summer break. But since the shit show on Beacon Hills, where he need to mingle with a pack of werewolves and one particular cryptic druid, Stiles kinda felt bored with only training his magic.

He need some action.

“You know what? I think I’ll take that chance to train with the Winchesters,” Stiles stated. He had a few insight from his contacts. They informed him that as long as you haven’t hurt a human, there would be at least 50:50 chance of having a minimum scathing conversation.

Well, for dealing with a dangerous hunter, that’s as good as it got.

He was sprawling on the couch after he was training making a portal. He let his magic recharged, because it took a lot of energy to make a stable portal. A stable portal was really important, or someone could ended up in pieces if the connection was disrupted.

Triss was waiting for her brewing to simmer, because Stiles really couldn’t be let near a magical brewery. Stiles was better left alone with a regular Alchemy brewing. “You sure?”

“I’m bored, would you rather I practice my teleportation?” Stiles asked, nonchalantly.

Last year he practiced teleporting and ended up in Mexico, with face planted first on the ground. He managed to get his hair scorched on his way there. He forgot to bring his phone and wallet when he practiced, and he somehow ended up in a small town where he couldn’t find anyone speaking English. He was reduced to the primitive way of flailing hand gestures and he tried very hard not to scare people away because his hair scorched unevenly and his clothing full of dirt.

After he managed to get a hold of a phone, he contacted Triss. His aunt couldn’t stop laughing for hours on end. He ended up shaving all of his hair and he took s bottle of Swallow to heal a little bit of burn marks on his scalp. Sadly, the healing potion didn’t also function to regrow hair. There was no instant hair growing potion either, so he ended up using a hair growing oil. He looked totally ridiculous he refused to leave the house for the whole summer. That’s why he missed his usual training in the Institute.

By the way, Stiles looked at the sorceress. “Have you heard anything from the Lightwoods?”

Stiles had told them to not send him a fire message, because what if he was in the room with the sheriff? Or at school?

“The shadowhunters is at war with Valentine. That’s all I know.”

Stiles felt a shiver ran across his body. So, they finally found that man. He didn’t want to hear that name ever again. “What? Do you know anything else? Is there anything we could do to help?”

“I already told them I don’t want to have anything to do with the nephilim. I’m holding my neutral position here, Stiles.” Triss sighed, she threw Stiles a look. “If you barge in the middle of their war, the Conclave will know about you. They’ll probably consider you as one of Valentine’s.”

“The circle mark couldn’t even take a hold on my skin. Any marks they draw on me with the _stele_ couldn’t even hold!” Stiles sat up.

“And they’ll want do a bunch of test on you!”

Stiles really hated it when people had a point. Dammit. He slumped on the sofa. “Ugh, fine. The Winchester then. I don’t want to sit around being useless.”

“You’re not sitting around. You’re doing yourself a favor for getting your pent-up magic some exercise. Because you and your mother are stubborn for not letting Noah know about all of this. You could have steadily using your magic so that it won’t get cranky.” Triss said firmly. Her brew was simmering and she bottled the content up. “Also, making a smart decision definitely doesn’t make you useless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment and leave kudos, because it made my day!
> 
> uwu


	8. Chapter 8

“You sure you want to go alone?” Triss asked Stiles.

Stiles nodded. He was standing in front the shop’s door. Triss had get a hold on Rowena. She agreed to meet in a diner in Kansas City. Stiles had a vague memory of passing there, and he hoped the portal door still able to get him there. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt with a yellow batman logo on it and a track pants. He tucked his wolf necklace under his t-shirt. He’d like to be able to move freely if they do ended up fighting. He slipped a few knives on his combat boots. He brought also brought a bag filled with potions and a few herbs and also clothes.

“You’re not afraid of meeting these Winchesters anymore?”

“I’m not exactly afraid, just wary.” Stiles mumbled. “Well, actually. Afraid is the right word. That’s why I need you here, if I don’t message you in an hour, assume me dead.”

“Stop being dramatic.” Triss huffed a laugh.

Stiles pouted. “Yeah, laugh all you want. Tell my dad I love him, tell Scotty to delete my internet history, tell Lydia I’ll be her guardian angel because I’ll still love her in the after life.”

Then Stiles paused. “Okay, that actually sounded creepy. Don’t you think guardian angel concept is creepy? Are they watching your bathroom business too?”

“Stiles,” Triss sighed.

“Oh! Also tell Derek I’m the one who scratch his camaro the morning I left Beacon Hills, because fuck him and his sexy car!” Stiles stomped to open the portal door. Then he turned toward Triss once more, “On second thought, don’t tell him that. Let him _mourn_ me, because I’m dead anyway without his furry ass bringing me unnecessary trouble.”

“Bye, Auntie!”

And with that Stiles left.

.

Stiles opened his GPS and it lead him to a small diner, with only five costumers inside. The teen’s gaze instantly drawn to two person who sat on the corner of the diner.

There was a beautiful woman with flaming red hair with delicate curl sitting with back straight on one of the booths. She wore a tight long sleeved black blouse and a long magenta skirt. Her chin was raised high and she just screamed the vibe of a witch. There was a cup of tea and an empty plate in front of her.

Beside her a man sit slumped near the window. His hair was black and he wore a khaki trench coat. In the middle of summer. He seemed very uncomfortable being cornered by her and he gazed outside the window and his face set to a scowl.

Stiles cautiously walked toward them. “Rowena MacLeod?”

The woman smiled at him and gestured for him to sit down. She had a thick Scottish accent. “You must be Triss’ nephew, Mieczysław Stilinski.”

Stiles gaped at her for a second, because her pronounce was actually good. He didn’t like his name because people kept butchering it, but he find it he didn’t mind if people actually say it right. But, he’ll just say it for the sake of making small talk. “If it’s a handful, you can just call me Stiles.”

“You seemed… a lot younger than I thought.” Rowena assessed him.

“I’m seventeen,” Stiles told her. Then Stiles direct his gaze to the man beside her. “You’re Winchester?”

“No.” The man answered.

“Yes.” Rowena said at the same time. The man whipped his head at her. Rowena rolled her eyes, “You’re a honorary Winchester already. Just waiting for Dean to pull his head out of his ass and you’ll be an official Winchester.”

The man opened his mouth to retort something, but he just sighed. “My name is Castiel.”

“Huh, like an angel,” Stiles muttered. Of course, when Stiles was nervous, trust him to ramble. “That’s unusual. Usually people named their kids after the archangels like Michael or Gabriel or Raphael. Not that I’m saying that it’s a bad name. It’s a good name. Angel of Thursday, were you born on Thursday?”

Rowena looked particularly amused. She grinned. “Well, you’re well versed on your angel knowledge. Are you religious?”

“No, not really.” Stiles shrugged. Castiel looked at him with eyes narrowed. Did Stiles offend him? Probably. It’s a regular reaction.

Before Stiles could panic and rambled more, a waiter with came to their table. Asking if Stiles wanted to order anything. Stiles settled for an iced latte.

Castiel cleared his throat after the waiter left. “We’ve been told that you could help us.”

 _Uh, what?_ Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester were on a hunting trip and they haven’t been home in a few days.” Castiel said, his voice was gravelly. Stiles didn’t think it matched his face.

“I’m sorry but my Aunt failed to inform me that.”

“You’re saying you couldn’t help us?” Castiel’s frown deepened. He reminded Stiles of Derek and he braced himself to get his head slammed against the table. The blow didn’t come.

Well, _Stiles_ was the one who hoped that the _Winchesters_ could help him. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I need more information than that. Where and when they were last seen? What have they been hunting?”

Castiel proceed to tell him that there was a case of missing people. They didn’t know what they were hunting yet, but they were in location at the time and they decided to check it out.

“Who’s the victim?” Stiles asked them.

“Mostly teenagers.” Castiel told him. “Then there were police officer who were handling the case also gone missing without trace. That’s what made them decide that maybe there’s something supernatural behind it.”

Stiles hummed, then turned to look at Rowena. “Have you tried scrying?”

“Of course,” the witch rolled her eyes. “But I couldn’t find them.”

“Magical barriers?” Stiles asked her. Rowena pursed her mouth and shook her head.

“No, it felt like… they’re just gone. Not dead. There’s just nothing.” She explained.

Well, that was interesting.

“Do you know the exact last known location of them?” Stiles asked again.

“We know that they stayed at a motel,” Castiel answered. He seemed to be able to sense that Stiles wanted to check the place out, then added. “We’ve checked. The staff there found them gone and decide to clean the room up. We’ve payed and retrieve their belonging. We don’t know anything else anymore.”

“May I see them?”

Castiel shrugged, then Rowena slides off the booth, letting Castiel out. She stayed seated and Stiles followed the man out. At first Stiles thought of Castiel as small. But nope. The man was _tall._ He lead them out toward a black car. A ‘67 chevy impala. The car looked absolutely _delectable_. Stiles wanted to lick it a little. He got a hold of himself though.

Castiel opened the trunk of the car and Stiles let out a whistle. “Wow.”

There was various guns and knives and blades hidden on the trunk. Also there was small trinkets like Rosario, prayer beads, stakes and other things Stiles couldn’t name. There were also various fake ids. There’s a big demon trap painted on the door of the trunk. Stiles wondered if he could take one. His mouth watered at the sight. He really have nothing but his small knives.

He always wanted a seraph blade for so long, but he couldn’t because basically he’s a kept secret from the Conclave and the shadowhunters, even though he trained him, didn’t just hand out weapons. He couldn’t legally have a gun either. He’s not even legal.

“They bring all these?”

“They bring the whole car.” Castiel said.

“Would they mind if I take one of these?” Stiles blurted. Castiel only looked at him flatly. He grabbed a black duffel bag and closed the trunk. He went back inside and Stiles just followed him, he pouted a bit.

Once seated, Castiel let Stiles rummaged the content of the bag. His iced latte was already on the table. Stiles took a sip. Then, he pulled out an old leather notebook and flipped through it. He set it aside when he saw that the last entry wasn’t recent. When he saw a laptop, he let out a triumphant noise. He boot it up.

“Do you know the password?” Stiles asked the both of them.

“That’s Sam’s laptop,” Castiel said as if it were an answer enough. Then Rowena gestured to Stiles to give it to her. Rowena typed the password and gave Stiles the laptop back.

Castiel was looking at Rowena with a complicated expression, while the witch smirked. Stiles really didn’t understand what those exchange was about, so Stiles focused on the task at hand.

Stiles looked though the recent files. There were a lot of research, Stiles felt like he kinda like this Sam Winchester guy already. Maybe they could be friends.

He opened the browser and looked carefully for his recent search. There were lots of article of these missing people. There were one of the article that mentioned the last known of the missing person’s location was at a nightclub.

Stiles tapped his fingers on the table. “What’s the name of the motel they stayed in?”

Castiel gave him a name and Stiles checked the GPS. “A-ha!” The motel and the night club was near. Stiles threw his hands in the air. “They’re probably missing around the nightclub near there.”

“What makes you think so?” Castiel asked him.

“The last report of the missing person was reported to be going to a nightclub, but he never come back in the morning. This nightclub was near the motel they stayed in. They might check the place out and ended up missing too.” Stiles explained.

Rowena clapped her hand, “Well done, kid.”

Well, it’s nice being acknowledged for his contribution. Rather than a certain sourwolf who found slamming Stiles against hard surface as a way to say thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda want to make this into a stetopher fic at first but I don't know how to go from this point to that. Then I also kinda want to make it a Steter, because I love Peter, but I kinda want to make it Sterek but it's going to be a long way there.
> 
> I'm a bundle of confusion, I don't know how to romance :')


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

They paid for their meal, before moving to the impala. Stiles seated on the back.

“The perpetrator might have moved on, don’t you think?” Castiel asked him after a few moment in the road from the driver seat.

“There has been 6 people missing in total in a month, there’s still a chance they could still be in town.” Stiles reasoned. “A lead is a lead. I say we check this area.”

“But don’t you think going there without a plan would be wise?” Rowena asked, finally giving them input. She had been smiling as if she knew something they don’t. Freaking witch. He didn’t want her to be in a room with Deaton. He might resort to murder. “We could end up missing too.”

“Don’t you think you should say that on the diner?” Stiles huffed a breath and slumped in his seat. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Ugh, there’s too many possibility.”

“Too many? I thought there would be none,” Rowena leaned toward Stiles.

“Of course, there’s a lot. If you couldn’t sense magic barrier, and you’re sure that they’re not dead, we might be dealing with something that has stronger magic than you so that they’re able to hide them. Another possibility is that they could be not in this dimension, so the spell doesn’t work.”

Stiles didn’t miss the way Castiel and Rowena exchanging glances after that.

“Anyway, I’ve been wondering, you seemed to know what you’re doing. Why are you seeking tutoring from the boys?”

“Well, I have a lot of textbook knowledge. I know how to fight monsters and demons. What I want to know is how to handle human hunters.” Stiles tell her truthfully.

“You fight a lot of demons? You fight demons?” Castiel narrowed his eyes at him from the rear-view mirror. Well, the guy had been staring at Stiles with narrowed eyes since he walked in the diner, so.

“Uh, lower demons?” Stiles said. Then it just occurred to Stiles. Did regular hunters even hunt demons? Lower demons were usually invisible to a regular human without the Sight.

_Dammit._

“What are you?” Castiel asked. He suddenly stopped the car. It was a good thing that the road they choose didn’t have any other car in sight, or there could be some serious accident.

“Human,” Stiles answered automatically.

“Regular humans couldn’t see lower demons. Much less fight them.”

Stiles didn’t even see the guy moved, but he was suddenly lunging for him. It was a complicated maneuver and Stiles didn’t know how he did that. Stiles managed to hold him. Castiel was fucking strong, he couldn’t be human himself. Even with his own mutation and all the training he got and also some boost of his spark, he had trouble keeping the blade he hold from piercing his throat.

“Okay, okay! I’m mostly human!” Stiles told him in panic. Castiel was still trying to stab him with the blade, which by the way … “Is that seraph blade? Oh, by the angel, I’m a shadowhunter too! Please don’t kill me.”

When he felt Castiel stopped trying to push the blade through his throat, Stiles took that as a win.

“Boys, could we fight somewhere else?” Rowena asked. Stiles saw that there were a few people walking toward the impala.

Castiel silently slid back to the driver seat and drove away.

“That explained why your soul look like _that_.” Castiel grumbled.

“Soul?!” Stiles exclaimed. “You could see _souls_?”

Castiel totally ignored him. “What I have is an angel blade, not a seraph blade.”

“Uh?” Stiles didn’t know how to respond to that. “But it looked like it was made from adamas.”

“No. It’s regular silver. But this blade was touched by God. Well, the use is more or less the same.” Castiel told him. “Well, seraph blade could be more useful if the one who wield it knows how to use it to its full potential.”

Stiles was still disoriented. Castiel was just trying to kill him and now he’s giving him information. “Touched by God? Where did you even find a weapon touched by _God?_ Are you sure it’s God who’s doing the touching?”

Stiles didn’t mean to make it sound dirty. But, _well._

“My dear, Castiel here is an angel of the Lord,” Rowena told him.

When Castiel didn’t say anything to deny it, Stiles’ world suddenly spun. Stiles really thought nothing could surprise him anymore at this point.

Stiles took a considerable amount of time to regulate his breath, because he felt like he was chocking. He hadn’t had a panic attack in a long time, it wasn’t as strong as his last episode, but, he just …

Need to breathe.

“Mieczysław…?” He heard Rowena called him. She asked him to breathe with her.

Stiles felt his throat loosen a little.

“You-you’re an angel? You’re actually Castiel _the angel?_ ” Stiles just want to make sure.

Castiel confirmed, looking confused at Stiles’ reaction, but the witch hold a palm on his arm. She shot the angel a look. _The angel._

“This is huge.” Stiles took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His hands still shook and curl it on a fist and held it for a few minutes until he wasn’t shaking.

They left the conversation at that. And began to inspect the area first. They split up. Stiles took that as a chance to gather himself. He didn’t even realize he had scoured the whole block and ended up back in front of the impala.

Castiel was back, but Rowena wasn’t.

“You found anything?” The angel asked him. Stiles shook his head. The angel sighed.

They were left in an uncomfortable silence. Until finally Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. “Can I ask you a question? I mean another questions. Lots of questions.”

Castiel shrugged and nodded.

“Can I see the proof that you’re angel? Do you have wings?” Stiles asked.

Castiel look thoughtful for a moment, before suddenly he sprouted a pair of huge black wings. They were gorgeous. But, “Why did you do it here?! What if someone saw it?!”

Stiles glanced around. There were people passing by, but no one pay them any attention. He knew that the human race could be down right ignorant, but _seriously?!_

“You’re a nephilim. Your eyes are able to see our real form, I just … bring a part of me forth that’s safe to show.” Castiel told him. “Regular humans usually got blinded if we showed them that. And usually I summon a thunder so people could see only the silhouette of my wings to protect their eyes.”

Stiles blinked. “So, the others couldn’t see it, right now?”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m only showing it specifically to you.”

“That’s a handy trick.” Stiles muttered. “I wish I could control my illusions like that.”

“Shadowhunters could wield magic?”

 _Whoops._ Stiles really need to stop speaking what’s on his brain without filtering.

Stiles glanced around, still no Rowena in sight. This was technically the first time he’s “coming out” to someone. He was a little bit nervous, and he was gambling. He just hoped Castiel wouldn’t end up trying to kill him for power or think of him as an abomination. He threw his strongest magical barrier so that _no one_ would be able to hear their talk.

Castiel seemed to be able to feel his magic. He looked at Stiles in interested manner.

“So, yeah, I’m not your regular shadowhunter. I was born a spark, do you know about them?”

Castiel frowned and nodded. Still took a deep breath. He took out his necklace out of his shirt and fiddled with it, just to soothe his nerve.

“When I was eight, I’m kidnapped by this … evil shadowhunter. His name is Valentine.” Stiles shuddered after saying _that_ name. “He conducted a series of experiments. To make a shadowhunter without the mortal cup. He found an ancient text about witchers, somehow. A mutant born of sorcery and alchemy. He recreated those recipe and added the blood of shadowhunter, like the usual Rite of Accession. And I don’t think he knew that I’m a spark. And I think that’s what makes my body able to withstand the experiment. I heard the other subjects die horribly.”

They were screaming in agony for _hours_ , and it wasn’t something an eight years old should hear.

“So, here I am. Thus why I could wield magic. Even though as my mentor said it wasn’t as powerful as regular sparks could be.” Stiles said. He looked carefully for Castiel’s expression. Stiles couldn’t read much. The frown on the angel’s face was constant.

But before Castiel could answer more of his questions, Rowena showed up. Such impeccable timing. “Well, boys, look what I found on the alleyway next to the nightclub.”

Stiles dropped his barrier. He eyed Castiel warily, because his wings were still spread out. Rowena didn’t seem to notice it as she stepped closer.

The witch showed Stiles what she found. Castiel was frowning. “Why’s that important?”

“Well, I don’t think finding an arrow laying on the ground in alleyway happened commonly.” Stiles muttered. He took the arrow and inspect it. Stiles didn’t see the telltale of dried blood. “I don’t think it has been used. It seemed it missed its target or it just… dropped.”

His medallion also didn’t hum so he didn’t think that it’s magical. But he did caught something. “Well, well, this is an Argent’s”

“Argent?” Castiel asked.

“Yes, they’re hunters. But they mostly deal with werewolves. They like to mark their weapon. There’s their crest here on the arrowhead.” Stiles said. “Maybe our victims are werewolves. But that doesn’t explain why they took the Winchesters too.”

Rowena cleared her throat, “Well, boys, the interesting thing was. This arrow showed up right in front of my face. Out of thin air.”


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles checked the spot where Rowena found the arrow. His medallion couldn't sense anything. He told them as such. Rowena asked him about his necklace. “This is family heirloom, it’s some kind of magic detector.”

“Interesting,” She hummed. Stiles filed that under weird-cryptic-magic-user custom that needed to be ignored for his own sanity on his mind.

“Maybe, there’s nothing magical going on at this moment, but there’s definitely a magical residue around here. It’s very faint.” Castiel told them.

“Well, I don’t know what to do with that information, because I couldn’t feel anything.” Rowena shrugged. “Now what do we do?”

Castiel glanced at Stiles. Stiles stared at him for a few seconds, then he glanced at Rowena. Willing the angel to understand that Stiles couldn’t openly do his spark mojo in front of her. Stiles already gambled his life by telling the angel, but he couldn’t risk the witch. Even though technically Triss vouched for Rowena. He dealt with a lot of bad witches and he didn’t trust her. Yet.

“Well, is there a chance that this will happen again?” Stiles asked the angel.

“If things kept happening around here, then it probably will.” Castiel said. Stiles nodded.

“Then, we’ll just wait here then.”

Rowena leveled him a look. “So, we’re just going to stand here for who knows how long?”

“We could take turn, I could take first turn. You could rest on the car or go look for dinner or do whatever in the mean time,” Stiles told her. Then he turned to Castiel, “Do angels rest?”

“No,” Castiel answered.

Rowena agreed with the arrangement, but they exchanged number first in case something decided to happen while she was gone.

Stiles waited for Rowena to disappear before he rubbed his palm together, “Alright, let’s do this.”

Stiles tried to concentrate on his spark. Trying to channel all his magic to enhance his senses. It took him a great deal of concentration, but he got it. He couldn’t see anything weird, but he did feel something.

He put his hand on the wall next to him and he walked along the alleyway, feeling the energy out. Trying to find the trace of anything unnatural. He felt pulsing. “The magic… It wasn’t exactly a faint residue as you said.”

Stiles turned toward Castiel. The angel looked at him with head tilted. “It’s... moving. Also unstable.”

The angel still looked at him with raised eyebrow. Stiles gestured with his hand. “It’s like pulsating heart. The magic was beating and gone, and beating, and gone … so on.”

“And it’s kind of moving everywhere, no exact pattern.” Then Stiles moved closer toward where Castiel stood. “But this point is the most concentrated one.”

Stiles held out his left hand. “Let’s see if something will happen, if I add some more magic.”

It took a great deal of strength and concentration to pin the moving magic in place and added more concentration of his own power to it. But Stiles did manage it.

There stood a portal in front of him.

Castiel took a stride toward the portal, but Stiles dropped his magic and the portal disappeared. Castiel scowled at him, his voice a growl. Wasn’t that familiar. “What are you doing?”

“What are _you_ doing?” Stiles leveled Castiel a look. “You couldn’t just get in without a plan.”

“Yeah, we could.” Castiel said. “We go in and observe things and see if there’s any clue or tracks we could follow.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the angel. “Have you ever traveled trough a portal before?”

“No,” Castiel seemed confused. “I could fly anywhere, I don’t need portal.”

Stiles sighed, “Then let me tell you, traveling through a portal isn’t like going through a door. The portal takes you to a place where you want to go.”

“Great then, I want to go where they’re gone.”

“Not like that. It doesn’t take you to a person, this is not a GPS tracker. You have to know the exact place you’re heading when you enter the portal. It needs to be a place where you've been before,” Stiles said. “They must have think of a place when they went through the portal or they could ended up in several different place. In several different pieces.”

“Dammit.” Castiel cursed. His shoulder droop.

“Sam and Dean could think of two different places and they could end up someplace different too, unless they're holding unto each other.” Stiles sighed.

Stiles was running out of ideas. But he’ll be damned if he gave up. He loved a good mystery after all. But he need to think. Gather more resource. Ask Triss guidance probably? In term of raw power, Stiles was definitely a lot more powerful than her. But Triss did have more knowledge and experience. And speaking of powers …

“You’re an angel. Is there anything you could do?”

“No. If I could I’ll rescue them myself.” He grunted.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the angel, because… “I thought angels are all powerful.”

“Yeah, when they’re not cut off from heaven.”

“You’re cut off from heaven?” Stiles shook his head. “How was _that_ possible?”

Stiles took a step back. “Are you-Are you fallen? Are you Lucifer’s follower?”

Stiles took another step back and straightened his back, “That would make sense. You’re working with a witch!”

Castiel sighed heavily, look upwards, then back at Stiles. “You’re aunt’s a witch too. Does that mean she witch worship the devil? Does that mean _you_ also worship the devil?”

“Well,” Technically, Triss is a mage. But, okay, he get it. He might have been a little prejudiced. Stiles threw his arms up on the air. “Well, can you blame me? This is the first time I’ve encountered an angel. I know nothing concrete about you guys. I have so many questions and I’m still trying to process _you_.”

“There’s a reason for a lot of thing, Stiles. Why celestial beings don’t just show up to humanity’s naked eyes, why prayers are heard but questions aren’t answered.” Castiel said firmly.

_Freaking cryptic angels._

Why did Stiles get surrounded by cryptic beings? Did seeing someone struggle get them off?

Silence crept around them as the sky grew darker and people started to arrive on the parking lot of the nightclub. Then Castiel proceed to look at Stiles far longer than he was comfortable with.

“What? Why are you staring at me?” Stiles fidgeted.

“Look, I said that _I_ can’t do anything.” Castiel started slowly. “But, that doesn’t mean _you_ can’t do it.”

Stiles blinked. “What?”

Castiel was still looking at him calculatingly, “Are you sure you’re given a shadowhunter’s blood?”

“Wasn’t that how you turn a human to a shadowhunter?” Stiles was confused.

“Do you know how the first shadowhunter were created?” Castiel asked. It wasn't long for Stiles to catch up. Stiles’ eyes widen. “You could also directly use an angel blood.”

“So, you’re saying that Valentine got himself an angel’s blood?” Stiles asked, horrified. “Did the angel give their blood willingly?”

“I don’t think any angel would give anyone anything willingly if their intention was impure.” Castiel told him. Then he added, “Do you remember how you were given these… chemical?”

“They tried to feed the half of the subjects and injected the other half. Mine was injected.” Stiles remembered the pain that came after the injection. He took a deep breath and held his palm in a fist, trying to get a hold of himself because he was starting to tremble. It wasn’t a memory he liked to dwell.

“He might also injected you with an angel’s grace without knowing.”

“Grace?” Stiles head started to hurt. This is too much information he could get under 24 hours.

“It’s like … angel’s soul. It’s called a grace. Our core.” Castiel explained. “This mutation of yours, not only it affect your biology, I think it also affect your soul.”

“My soul… is also mutated?” Stiles took a deep breath. “Is that… is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t think so. It just made you stand out. Souls are bright thing, but yours? Yours a beacon. It definitely will attract moths to you. I’m surprised you’re not being chased around by trouble.”

“I did. All the time,” Stiles swayed to the left and he rest his body weight to a dumpster next to him. “Oh boy. Everyone always write it off as me being … _me_! Also because I live in a place that also attract trouble. But if the problem is my freaking soul?”

“Don’t look at it as a problem,” Castiel sighed. The angel walked toward him and stared at him right on the eyes.

“You told me that you’re not as strong as a regular sparks should be. Because you’re _not_ regular spark and you _shouldn’t_ try to wield all your magic as a spark. You’re part angel too.” He then put his hand on Stiles shoulder on a firm grip. "Maybe-"

“-You should try to wield your magic like an angel does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry I missed yesterday's update because my brain stopped working. But I'm back, yay!


	11. Chapter 11

The first time Peter Hale met Stiles, he thought the boy couldn’t possibly be human. The boy has a sharp feature and pale skin splattered with beauty marks all over. His eyes was big, doe like. If the right light hit them, it looked like a molten gold. His smell was sweet and fresh. Like a garden of flower and a ray of sunshine, and a little bit of chemical from his medicine. His voice was pleasant, melodious even at some point. He wanted to hear the boy sing, honestly.

No, Peter didn’t wax poetic over Stiles Stilinski. He merely stating a fact, a description.

Peter thought that maybe the boy was a fae. Or have fae blood running through his veins. His physical appearance and his mischievous nature seemed fitting. He offered Stiles the bite just to see his reaction. Would the boy be eager? Or perhaps scared?

Then the boy simply refused and looked at Peter as if he was being offered a food. Like the offered bite meant nothing. Peter was sure that the boy was a fae after that. An alpha werewolf bite to a fae would prove fatal. It would result in death. Even though Stiles never outright say that he was one to the pack. He never offered them his magic too, content acting like a human. A fae usually had talent for illusion magic and nature magic.

Peter let the boy keep his secret. Maybe one day that information could prove themselves useful and Peter would exploit it to the hilt. Then, Chris Argent told him about Stiles’ kidnapping.

It didn’t make sense. Faes were always have talents for words, twisting and bending it, manipulative. Even though Stiles did lack the grace in conversation as he was in moving, Peter always wrote that off as being a half-fae that didn’t live at the court. But the fae weren’t capable of actually making people obey them magically with a few hand gesture.

So it seemed that Stiles wasn’t a fae after all.

Peter threw himself into research after that night. The boy is a puzzle and Peter enjoyed a good riddle. He was looking for what the boy might be. He crossed out vampires out of the list, because while they got compulsion magic, they got no pulse. And there was no mistaking Stiles’ flutter of heartbeat.

Then he narrowed it down to a mage or warlock. Peter had a difficult time to accept that, though. Young warlock usually have no control of their magic. Usually their magic emerged out of strong emotion and usually it was explosive. From Christoper’s story, it seemed like Stiles knew how to perfectly control the hunter. But the boy couldn’t possibly be a mage either. Mages need years of training and discipline to build up their magic to be that strong. Perhaps the boy was actually a hundred years old?

Peter researched about Stiles’ legal files after that. He seemed like he was a normal kid. The Stilinski lived in Poland until Stiles was 8, before they moved to Beacon Hills. At 10 his mother, Claudia Merigold was dead from frontotemporal dementia.

Peter was stuck. He decided to visit the boy at his house, but he found the house empty. It was weird though, his jeep was parked in his house. Peter went up his room through the window and found that the boy’s scent was faded. Like he hadn’t been in the room for a few weeks.

Peter shrugged it off, because if Stiles was kidnapped again, the sheriff would probably be panicking and the whole town would definitely gossip about the missing sheriff’s son. His suspicion was confirmed at the pack meeting a few days later.

There were only him, his nephew, Isaac and Scott, who’s looking all frown at being summoned by the Alpha. Isaac was eyeing Scott as soon as he entered the loft. “Where is your little side-kick?”

Peter couldn’t help but snort at that. Because Scott’s little side-kick might be a dangerous creature. Scott threw Peter a shrewd look.

Derek beat Scott to answer Isaac’s question. “I told him he’s out of the pack. He’ll only be a hindrance.”

“Good riddance,” Isaac sneered.

Peter rolled his eyes, because really? Have they met Stiles? “Have any of you meet Stiles? Since when telling him that he’s out would actually keep him out? Saying that would only get him closer to danger, dear Nephew.”

Derek scowled at Peter. But he seemed like he was thinking about what he said. His nephew must have seen the truth in Peter’s word. Derek must notice something’s up, because he smelled a little bit like concern. It was the calm before the storm. Derek would probably panic in a few seconds if he didn’t hear a confirmation of Stiles’ safety.

His nephew was stupid. Why couldn’t he just admit his feelings for the boy and saved everyone from his angst? Derek always had the tendency to fall for beautiful humans with a strong character and have the tendency to attract trouble. Stiles fit that category perfectly. Even though, hey, Stiles might not be human. At the very least, admit his feeling to himself. But nope.

Scott glared at them all. “Stiles is in Poland, visiting his aunt for Summer. Like always.”

Aunt?

Well, Peter never found out about any aunt. John was a sole child, while Claudia was an orphan.

“So, Stiles is running?” Isaac said.

“No,” Scott told them exasperatedly. “It’s what they do. Stiles went there for summer and his aunt went here for Christmas.”

“Oh really? What was her name? Was she pretty?” Scott eyed Peter with wrinkled nose.

“Leave Triss out of this. She’s too pretty for you,” Scott sneered. But he still technically answered Peter’s question. Peter wondered how could he still be alive at this point. This kid took dumb to another level.

Peter wondered if he could push it for her full name. But before Peter could ask, Scott was looking at Derek. “What is it you want to talk about?”

“There’s been weird accident,” Derek started.

“When is it ever not?” Peter leered. Derek ignored him.

“Mysterious object kept appearing out of nowhere.” The Alpha continued.

Well, Peter didn’t expect _that_. But, “And that’s important because …”

“Because stuff didn’t normally appear out of nowhere,” Scott said. Peter look heaven ward and too a deep breath. He regretted every moment since he bit Scott.

“It was important because this objects are appearing in the graveyard. It wasn’t crowded with people going there everyday. But there’s still people coming and going everyday and these people start to talk about them. Because even if something drops out of thin air in front of someone is not weird enough, finding _sword_ and medieval helmet lying on the ground would definitely did it.” It was Isaac who told them. Well, he did work in the graveyard.

“You’ve seen it first-hand?” Peter asked him. The curly haired werewolf nodded.

“Yeah, there’s actually an arrow appearing out of nowhere and hit me in the foot.”

“What do we do, then? What causes it?” Scott asked Isaac. The beta only shrugged.

“That’s what we need to find out.” Derek said. He turned to look at Peter.

Peter didn’t let Derek talk and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll search for information about that, dear Nephew.”

Derek nodded, then turned his head to Isaac and Scott. “We couldn’t keep people out of graveyard, so we’ll help Isaac getting rid of the evidence at least. We’ll take turn. You too Peter.”

They arrange the graveyard combing shift before Derek dismissed them. “That’s all. Scott, don’t tell Stiles.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at him. “Why? He could help with research remotely.”

“I told him he’s out. So he’s out of pack business.” Derek stated firmly. “If he does something stupid and went back home-”

Peter barks out a laugh. “You think he’s helping the pack because of _you?_ He’s only helping his brother.”

Derek growled and flashed his eyes at Peter. “Out.”

Peter snorted again before he left the loft, because someone really need to check his nephew’s ego.

Peter went straight to the graveyard. He wasn’t eager to do what the alpha was telling him to do, but he was curious. Peter never liked not knowing things. Not having something up his sleeve in case shit happened.

He surveyed the area and he did find a dagger laying on the ground. There was fresh blood on it. He try to identify it from the smell alone. It didn’t tell much. Most beings have the same scent of blood as long as they eat the same thing. Like humans and werewolves and kitsunes have the same scent, but not with wendigos and ghouls. Because while they both feast on human flesh, wendigos prefer their meat fresh while ghouls mostly eat corpse.

He tried to scour the whole cemetery but didn’t find anything weird anymore. So he waited, maybe something would appear out of nowhere. He waited under the shade of one particular big tree for what felt like hours, silently watching people who came and gone. There weren’t a lot, but they were still potential witness to freak events. Then he felt something. Like the ground under him was trembling and a strong gust of wind suddenly blew against his face.

Suddenly he fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwu


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

“Well, well. What did I miss?” Stiles heard the thick accent of the red-headed witch. It seemed like she decided that she had enough break.

Stiles’ head was still reeling. His ears was ringing. What did Castiel just said?

He got an angel’s soul?

“Uh, yeah. I guess this is my turn for break.” Stiles shrugged Castiel’s hands from his shoulder. “I’m famished.”

Then Stiles just sprinted. He didn’t realize how long or how far he’d been running. But he was starting to pant. He stopped as suddenly as he started running. He took a deep breath, getting some air to his lungs helped calming his erratic heartbeat. He also didn’t realize that he already had his phone out and he was holding it with a sweaty palm. He called Triss.

“... _Stiles?_ ” The voice from the other side called worriedly.

Stiles snapped out of his reverie when someone bumped into him rather harshly, but Stiles didn’t even budge in his place. The person who bumped into him looked part angry and part hurt. Probably it also hurt his pride. Because he looked a lot bulkier than Stiles. Stiles expected a fight but the man only grunted at him, “Don’t stand in the middle of the road, kid.”

Stiles silently slide to the side and slumped his body on a thrift store wall. “I think I know why a witcher need their emotion to be stripped off. Also those shadowhunters have all those runes. I couldn’t handle this many information in a day.”

A beat of silence. “ _What happened?_ ”

Stiles wanted to yell at Triss for not telling him about the Winchesters being missing. But he knew he wasn’t actually mad about that part.

“There’s a … stray portals? I don’t know what causes them. But there are magical energies scattered around this area. So this portals shows up in unexpected moments and there were people who entered it accidentally. There’s been several missing people cases. That’s also probably where the Winchesters were gone.” Stiles huffed.

“ _That’s weird. Usually portals are only opened when someone opens them._ ” Triss hummed, but Stiles already knew it. “ _But, it wasn’t impossible_.”

_Huh._

“Rowena told me that he tried to scry for them, but it shows nothing. She knew they’re not dead, but she saw nothing.” Stiles told her.

“ _It’s probably because they’re on another dimension_.” Well, Stiles did think of that.

“But how am I supposed to enter another dimension when I’ve never been into another dimension? Aside from the shop, I mean.” Stiles asked Triss. His stomach rumbled. He peeked at the clock in his phone. It was 8 pm and he hadn’t eat since 10 a.m. Stiles glanced around and found a neon sign of a diner. He walked there. “Wait. If these Winchesters are on another dimension, does that mean they’ve been to one?! That’s cool.”

“ _Oh, no, no. If this was portal was the same as the one I’ve been told before, then it means it didn’t work that way_.” Triss said.

“What do you mean?”

“T _his stray portal phenomenon aren’t that weird, actually. It happens all the time. But usually it shows up in random places with a long interval. So if people actually went in without realizing it and ended up missing, it didn’t attract much attention_.” Triss explained. “ _According to Geralt, who’s been actually traveled between worlds this way, you don’t have to concentrate on your destination when you enter this portal. This kind of portal only gives you one destination. You have no choice in the matter_.”

“Hold a sec.” Stiles told Triss. He went in the diner and he ordered a cheese burger with curly fries and a milkshake. Then he talked again to Triss. “So, they’re all in the same dimension?”

“ _No. Let’s say there are two people entering this portal and one of them took a step one second too late, both of them could end up in a different place. So if there’s several missing people, high chances that they’re scattered on several different dimensions._ ”

_Well, why have it easy when you could have it hard, huh? Thanks, Universe._

“ _So you want to keep looking for them? You know you don’t have to. I didn’t know that this missing case would end up this way._ ”

“You said that usually this happened in random places with long interval. If this portal kept appearing in the same area in short interval, then there must have been something actually worth checking.” Stiles reasoned. “How would I find them then?”

“ _I suppose you could scry them if you’re in the same dimension. This phenomenon didn’t only appear here, you know. So you’ll need to track the other portals and went in there and keep moving._ ”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“ _And risky. You could end up in a dimension where the planet is entirely made of water, then you need to find the other portal until your breath runs out or you’ll die. Or you could end up in a world where the sun just died out and you need to find the portal before the world eventually got destroyed_.”

Stiles wasn’t so sure of doing this anymore, honestly. _But._

“ _Look, are you still in Kansas City? I’ll help you_.”

“No! I could handle this.” Or not. But, “Look, no offense, I’m technically stronger than you. I could handle this.”

“ _Yes, offence taken. I have the knowledge, this is a serious matter Stiles! If you ended up dead I’m the one who’s going to tell your dad. You know it won’t end well._ ”

“There’s something big going on here, Triss! Then it means if I do end up dead. You’re going to still be alive to solve this.”

“ _Stiles-_ ”

Stiles knew Triss won’t let him go, so he took a deep breath and drop the bomb. “There’s an angel.”

There’s a pause. “ _Stiles, we’re in the middle of a life and death situation here, please don’t get distracted by beautiful people._ ”

“The Winchesters have an angel friend. An actual angel. A heavenly being. Winged angels, that could see someone’s soul apparently.”

Another pause. “ _What_?”

“I know, I’ve been trying to process that for the last… 6 hours? Still can’t. Probably I’ll freak out later, when I have the time. Point is, I’ll go with him.”

“ _I really have no idea how to react to that_.”

“I _know._ But this… angel would surely be helpful, don’t you think?”

“ _Ugh, I don’t like this._ ”

“I know, Triss. But, if we go together and something big is actually happening, you’re the only one with the knowledge. So, please?”

“ _Two weeks. If you’re not back I’ll start panicking and telling_ everyone _, okay_?”

“A month, maybe? You know _maybe_ this other dimension have different time. It could rotate around their sun in different speed?”

“ _Two weeks in this dimension time. Not up for debate_.” Triss stated firmly. “ _Or I’ll tell your dad, the Institute, and your pack_.”

_Well, Stiles had been kicked out of said pack. Why would they care? But what could they do anyway?_

“Fine.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution: Wet scene.

Chris really have no idea what’s going on.

He was looking for Allison one moment, then he fell into a lake the next.

Then he was battling a weird creature. The creature looked like a giant tarantula. Like the size of an adult German Shepherd. Very hairy and spat very sticky web. Bullets didn’t work even in the slightest. But when he used the silver bullets. It worked. A little. It pierced its thick hairy skin and the creature bleed. But he was running out of bullets and there were actually another flock giant tarantulas come to this one’s aid.

So of course, the only reasonable action to take was to flee. Chris ran toward the lake he was coming from. Hoping that these creatures won’t be able to swim. What he found standing on the shore was not someone he expected to see. Not that he’s expecting anyone, but _still._

“Christopher?”

“Giant tarantulas!” Chris, running toward the wolf.

The wolf sputtered. “What the fuck?”

Peter Hale eyes widen when he finally caught sight of the thing that Chris meant. The werewolf changed to his beta shift and roared. The creatures only paused for a moment and screech at Peter before they continued moving forward.

“There’s too much of them, just get in the water!”

Chris went in the lake and swim until he was on the deepest part of the water. He glanced back at Peter and saw the wolf trying to fight the tarantulas. Of course he won’t just do what Chris told him to do. He saw three of the tarantulas actually stopped moving, thrown to the side. But there was at least … 10 more. Peter’s shirt was actually soaked with blood now.

Chris continued swimming toward the small island that were floating in the middle of the lake. On the center of that island was another small lake. That was where he first fell.

Chris turned back once again and saw the wolf swimming toward him.

“Too many of them.” Peter grumbled. Looking at his own arms that were slowly healing. “Their legs are fucking sharp and they blew hard.”

“What are you doing here?” Chris asked him.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Peter looked up from his arm and stared at Chris with one raised eyebrow.

Chris was tempted to punch the wolf. But he didn’t want to unnecessarily broke his wrist. He was in an unknown territory, he might require the full capacity of his hand if he want to survive. Plus he was out of silver bullet. He was really underprepared. “Don’t throw back my question.”

“Isn’t it familiar?” Peter said. “Were you perhaps looking for Stiles like that night?”

“Don’t say that name or you’ll end up finding him.” Chris said. Recalling the thing in Triss Merigold’s shop. He knew it was Stiles. Yes, _Mieczysław_. The boy really didn’t think that he would search his legal files?

Peter looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Wouldn’t that be handy.”

Now Chris remembered the way the teen skipped his fingers lightly on his chest. “You know what, don’t even think think about that kid.”

Chris probably should have taken his own advise. He did end up finding him that way. Kind of.

Well, it was coincidental.

“Does your phone works?” Peter asked him. “Mine got no signal.”

He really have no idea how the phone survived all those water.

“Mine’s dead.”

“What happened while you were in France, Christopher?” Peter pushed him. The wolf was taking off his v-neck shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“This shirt is wet and bloody.” Peter peeked at Chris, throwing him a smarmy grin. “It’s very _uncomfy._ You should take off your shirt too. Your human metabolism might failed you and it would be a great inconvenience to watch you wrinkle and die in front of me.”

“Ah, you _cared_ about me.” Chris tried not to raise to the wolf’s bait.

Peter wrinkled his nose at him then sighed. “You know what? Stiles hadn’t dropped from the sky yet. Perhaps we should call him by his real name.”

Chris didn’t even try to ask how the wolf know that Stiles was a nickname. Of course he did a research of his own.

“Dropped from the-What do you think he is?” Chris really did start to shiver. This place was _cold._ Even though it was beautiful and scenic. He wouldn’t mind spending his time here, honestly. Minus the wet clothes and giant tarantulas and preferably with his daughter safe and sound.

“Mieczysław!” Of course Peter won’t listen. Chris turned his back on Peter, walking away.

Chris saw an open field on the other side across the island on the opposite direction of the giant tarantulas in the woods. Because the first thing he did after he dropped in the middle of the lake was to scan the area.The tarantulas had retreated to the depth of the woods, but he’s not risking finding them again. “I’m leaving. You’re welcome to stay here, ”

“Christopher-”

There was a scream and a splash. “Fucking shit!”

Peter’s eyes widen and he slowly turning toward Chris. “Didn’t expect that to actually work.”

“Might not be him,” Chris mumbled. He didn’t get a good look at whoever … or whatever fell from … the sky? And the person still underwater. He resurfaced a few second later, though. Coughing.

“Castiel! Where are you?!” The person was wearing a gray shirt and a track pants, also he got a black backpack. He had his back on Peter and Chris. “Come on! Do you have to be gone too? Fuck all of this shit.”

“That’s his voice alright,” Peter said to him.

The guy that he now assumed as Stiles was suddenly stilled. He was standing at least 10 meter from them, of course he couldn’t hear Peter, _right?_

Stiles was walking away from them, so Peter called for him. “Stiles!”

The teen didn’t stop, he reached the other side of the inner lake. Making his way to the other side of the island.The wolf decided to run after him at inhuman speed and tackled him. They both fell on the sandy ground face first. Chris cursed before he follow them.

Peter had stood back up, but the teen still lay motionless on the ground. It was disturbing seeing the kid not moving. Before Chris could check the teen, Peter spoke. “I could hear your heartbeat going crazy, Stiles. You can’t play dead.”

Stiles looked content in not moving. Then Peter flipped the kid easily onto his side, because the huge backpack was in the way for him to actually lay on his back.

It was indeed Stiles Stilinski.

The teen was scowling and he glared dagger at Peter. There was blood running down his nose.

“Your nose is bleeding.” Chris said, he crouched in front of the kid and helped him sit up.

Stiles used one of his palm to wipe on his nose. He saw the blood on his hand and sighed. Then he looked heavenward. “I want to cry. But I can’t even feel the tears coming.”

“Stiles, your nose-” Chris tried to tell the kid, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Why are you both here?” The kid asked, not looking at either of them, his eyes were closed. The lack of energy Stiles was showing was rather disturbing.

“Why are _you_ here?” Peter asked the kid. Chris rolled his eyes.

“Did you appear at the same spot that I appear too?” Stiles asked again.

“Why don’t you use your magical compulsion to make us answer you every questions, huh?” Peter quipped.

The wolf really have a death wish. “Peter-”

“What are you talking about? Magical compulsion?” Stiles scoffed, but it was half-hearted at best.

Now, it was Chris turn to level Stiles a look. “I know you’re a warlock, Mieczysław.”

Stiles whipped his head down and looked at Chris with wide eyes. “Uh…”

“You think I wouldn’t check your legal files?”

“I thought my acting was spotless.” Stiles said. He narrowed his eyes, and then mumbled. “Yeah, sure, I’m a warlock.”

“You want to tell us that one of your parents are a demon and you’re actually 300 hundred years old?” Peter prodded, the wolf seemingly watching for a telltale of lies. Chris also watched Stiles’ body language. The boy just seemed exhausted.

“I’m seventeen,” Stiles said. It seemed his nosebleed has stopped.

“You can’t have that amount of control as a warlock when you’re seventeen.” Peter said.

Chris narrowed his eyes at the wolf, “But, I’ve seen his demon marks.”

Peter finally peeled his eyes away from the boy, looking at Chris with raised eyebrows. “You did?”

The boy snorted, before it turned into giggle, then the boy suddenly burst out into hysterical laugh.

Peter took a step back in shock. Chris changed his stance in case the boy would suddenly explode or something. Both of them exchanged looks.

“Stiles…?” Chris asked after the boy was laughing for _minutes._ There were tears running down the corner of his eyes. The boy finally slumped on his backpack and groaned. Putting both of his palm on his face.

“Okay… what’s so funny?” Chris threw a small pebble at Peter and glared at him.

“Demons.” Stiles voice was muffled by his hands.

“Demons are funny?” Peter asked slowly. It was ironic when the wolf was looking at Stiles like the kid was insane. But really, Chris also starting to get concerned for the teen.

Stiles didn’t answer. Instead he took a deep breath and staying as still as a statue for a minute. Peter and Chris once again exchanging glances.

Then Stiles sat up and he was rummaging his backpack. He pull out a plastic zip bag that was filled with-

“Was that hairs?” Peter wrinkled his nose.

Stiles completely ignored them and pulling one strand of hair out. He put the rest inside his backpack again. The strand of hair suddenly caught on fire and the teen inhaled the smoke. His eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Uh…” Chris really have no idea what was happening. This day just kept getting confusing by the hour.

“He’s scrying.” Peter told him.

“Scrying?”

“It’s a spell to track someone.” Chris raised an eyebrow at Peter. The wolf stared back. “What? I was Talia’s left hand. I’ve seen witches do this. Usually they need a whole bunch of herbs and a bowl of water though. Simplifying spell preparation meant that he was a strong magic user. It seemed that he _is_ a warlock.”

Chris heard Stiles let out a long exhale. He blinked and his eyes was back to normal. “I don’t have a drop of demon blood in me.”

“I mean, I think so. I hope so.” Stiles stood up and he walked back toward the middle of the inner lake. Passing Chris and Peter like they were wind rather than persons. Then he mumbled something, but Chris still able to make it out. “Really had enough self-discovery for one day though.”

The kid stood there for five minutes with palms out, like he was bracing for something, before he went further to the other side and doing _something_ to a tree. The boy then moved on to the next tree, he was carving the trees. Stiles carved five trees that surrounded the inner lake.

When the boy was done, Chris clothes was considerably dry. It was highly uncomfortable though. Stiles didn’t even seem to mind that he was dripping wet.

“Thanks,” Stiles hold out the knife he was using to Chris. Chris frowned and reached for the knife that was originally tucked in its place in his belt. It was indeed gone.

There must be something showing on his face when he saw the teen smirking and winked at him. He hold out his fingers and wiggled them. “Magic hands.”

“Would love to get a taste of those magic hands of yours,” Peter said. The teen looked at Peter and smiled sweetly.

“Yeah? Would you prefer I burn you or freeze you? Oh, I could force you to perform a puffin mating dance? Your choice.” Stiles said cheerfully, but before Peter could answer Stiles hold up his palm. There was a faint green glow that came out of his palm. “Shut up and don’t move.”

Then Stiles was looking at Chris. He was still smiling innocently. He remembered the blonde hunter’s word in headquarter. If Stiles claimed to be not a warlock then he’s probably a mage. He need to thread this carefully.

“Now, Mr. Argent, I believe you will act like an adult and a professional hunter that you are. I am also asking you as a professional. Please answer truthfully, your assistance will help us a great deal in finding our way back, because right now? We’re all stuck here together.” Chris could only nodded at the teen. “Now, where were you and what were you doing before you portaled here?”

“Portal?”

“Yes, that’s how you got here.”

This Stiles was really not the kid he was used to see in Beacon Hills. It makes Chris extremely wary and helpless. He didn’t like the feeling. “Allison and her mentor were investigating missing person case in Orleans. There’s a CCTV record that shows people missing into thin air. There was no time skip on the recording, so the Argents decided to check on them. Then they went missing too. I was looking for them and ended up … here.”

Stiles hummed and nodded, “Do you have something of hers? Anything that belongs to her for at least 40 days. I could scry for her.”

Chris cursed, before shaking his head. But really, how would he know that he should bring her stuff?

“Will other hunters come looking for you?”

“They surely will, but there is a CCTV in that area and since there are already three people missing they would probably stay clear of the area and hopefully they make something up so other people will stay clear of that area too.” Chris told Stiles.

The teen then nodded. “That’s good. Very good.” He turned to look at Peter. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he looked at Chris with questioning look. “I just realized he’s shirtless. Why is he shirtless?”

“No idea. He’s an exhibitionist?” Chris couldn’t help the twitch on the corner of his mouth. Stiles beamed at him.

“Okay, I guess.” Stiles shrugged. He hold up his left hand again. “So, Peter I’ll release you for second, and I want you to answer the same question I asked Mr. Argent, okay?”

If eyes could talk, Peter’s was screaming murder.

“You may talk,” Stiles said, green glow was once again there.

Peter growled, “Why don’t you just force me again?”

“You said you want a taste of my magical hands?” Stiles wriggled his fingers again for emphasis. The teen was grinning.

“Was the pack aware that you’re missing?” Stiles asked.

“The pack will definitely aware after I threw them your head-”

“Okay shut up.” Stiles sighed and grabbed his backpack that was laid forgotten on the sand for a while.

The teen gestured for Chris to follow him, Then he told Peter to follow him. The wolf was walking like a robot. It was hilarious to see, but he really was terrified with the … boy. He really need to stop addressing him as a boy. Stiles didn’t move like the clumsy teenager he saw barely a month ago. He moved with purpose.

Then suddenly Stiles tripped and hit a branch. The boy was cursing, “Fucking trees, standing on my fucking way.”

Okay, still a boy he was.

A highly dangerous boy.

The boy was walking toward the previous woods. Chris warned him of the tarantulas. The teen didn’t even seemed to be fazed by that and shrugged.

They ended up swimming and crossing the outer lake toward the open field. The grass was tall and very itchy. With their wet clothes it made a few of the dry leaves to stick. He glanced back toward the wolf whose eyes was still screaming murder, with dry weed sticking on his torso and pants. Peter looked utterly ridiculous. Chris threw him a smirk just because he could. Once the spell wore off, the wolf definitely would maul him. And Stiles. The beta werewolf would definitely rip the teen’s throat out.

“Where are we going, Stiles? I need to find Allison.” Chris told him after a few minutes of walking. But he really have no idea how to start looking for her, honestly.

“We’ll find another portal. But first, I want to check on the horse.” Stiles answered him without looking back.

“Horse? What horse?”

The teen didn’t answer him. Though it wasn’t long before he heard rustling. And neighing.

They arrive on a clearing. There were horses and … dead bodies.

“Hm, they’re using medieval gambesons, very interesting.” Stiles murmured.

The metallic stench of blood was strong, but they weren’t rotting yet. They seemed to die very recently. Chris examined the bodies. Their limbs were torn apart. And some of them seemed like they were squashed or smashed and looking very nasty.

“Stiles, these are fresh kill, we better leave.” Chris looked at the teen who was examining the content on the horse’s saddlebags. “What are you doing?”

“Well, well,” Stiles pulled out a bottle of… wine? “I thought we portaled through another world.”

“Erveluce 1269.” Stiles turned to Chris with face somber. “It seemed like we’ve portaled through time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it gets wet ;) eheheh
> 
> The lake they're in is the lake in Toussaint for that Lady of The Lake quest btw. I had hard time describing those.
> 
> Anyway, I think I might start uploading once every two days because I'm going to be very busy this month :'(


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

The compulsion spell that Stiles used wasn’t the same as a vampire compulsion. Peter had been under a vampire’s compulsion, yes. He didn’t remember the detail, because that’s how their magic works, it leaves you with no clear memory of what happened and a lot disorientated. This kind of compulsion though, it left Peter feeling dread and frustration.

It’s a lot like having sleep paralysis. His mind was completely awake and he’s aware of everything that’s happening around him, yet his body refused to move. The feeling of utter helplessness both terrified him and made him angry.

It reminded him too much of his catatonic state. He _hated_ it.

When a vampire compulsion started to fade off, it felt a lot like waking up from a sleep. When Stiles’ compulsion wore off, it felt a lot like there’s a chain that was holding him just snapped.

Stiles was loading his backpack into the saddlebag of one of the mocha brown horse, when Peter felt his claw suddenly popped out and his whole body was suddenly tense from how much anger he kept. Finally regaining his ability to move, Peter strike.

Peter was aiming to grab a hold of the teen’s wrist. Because he needed his hand to do his magic, but Stiles was moving in the last second, so instead Peter was slashing at a bottle of wine he was holding. The bottle crashed to the ground, splattered against his jeans and boots.

“Aw, Peter, that’s a good wine,” Stiles whined.

Peter growled and pounced on Stiles. The horses neighing in distress when they heard the wolf. “Calm down.”

Peter had the boy pinned to the ground, he got a hold of both of his hand. “Yeah? You’re going to force me again?”

“Peter-” He could hear Chris voice warned him.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m talking to the horses.”

Well, now Peter realized that the horse had stopped shuffling nervously. So, Stiles didn’t need his hand to do magic. That’s… Peter didn’t know what to do with this information.

“Don’t use your spell on me again,” Peter growled.

“If you _behave_ ,” Stiles said. Peter glared at him. “Fine, _fine._ ”

Peter let him go.

Stiles stood up and went back to the brown horse. He pulled out a shirt and a trouser from the saddlebags and threw it to Chris. “Go change, we need to blend in.”

Stiles went to examine the content of the other horse’s saddlebags. He threw another pair of shirt and trouser to Peter. “Oh, there’s a gambeson. You should use this Mr. Argent.”

Chris didn’t even protest and went to behind the tall weed, presumably to have some semblance of privacy. Peter stared at Stiles some more, the teen was shrugging his shirt off and Peter didn’t expect to see a thin line of scars on his back. Some of it looked _really_ nasty. The teen also wasn’t as lanky or thin as Peter assumed him to be. “Who are you, Stiles?”

Stiles looked a little bit startled. He quickly put on the new shirt which is a little bit too big and it engulfed him. “What’s up with that question? We’ve already bypassing the awkward introduction like seven months ago.”

"You’re acting like a human.” Peter said.

“Of course I do.” Stiles grumbled something about stupid shirt and who owned the shirt. He then shrug off his track pants and put on the new trouser.

Peter rolled his eyes. “I mean you’re acting like a helpless human who knows nothing.”

Stiles stopped tugging on his trouser to throw a look at Peter. “ _Me_? Acting like I know nothing? I’ve been slammed into different kind of surface for acting like I know _everything_. _You’ve_ told me I’m too smart to be human and offered me the bite to make me an even more important asset.”

Well, true. But, “Why don’t you show us your true power, then? You could avoid being slammed into things.”

Stiles tucked his shirt in his trousers and tied them, before he turned fully toward Peter. “Have you met your nephew and the company he kept? Have you met _yourself_? Do you really think showing powers would grant me easier life?”

“I mean you could do your magic _thingy_ and avoid getting slammed.”

“Really? You got a taste of my magic _thingy_ and the next second you slammed me to the ground.”

Well, true again.

“Mr. Argent, are you done? You’re not getting eaten by giant tarantulas aren’t you?”

There was a sound of rustling before Chris Argent stepped out of the middle of the grasses. He was wearing a gambeson over his white shirt and he actually had the gut to look good in it.

“That’s not fair. You look like a badass warrior. I mean you _are_. I look like an overgrown toddler.” Stiles grumbled. Peter couldn’t help but snort. Stiles threw him a look. “And why aren’t you changing yet?”

Peter just shrugged and unbuttoned his pants. Stiles let out a squawk, face going red. He turned quickly. “ _You’re_ a toddler! Why aren’t you using underwear?! Okay, don’t answer that.”

He saw Christopher leveled him a look. “What? As a werewolf I do like to enjoy the nature.”

"Sadly, the nature does not enjoy _you._ " Chris retorted, causing Stiles to bark a laughter. Peter flipped him the bird and put on his trouser.

“What’s the plan, Stiles?” Chris asked the teen who had his back on the two men.

“My original plan was to jump portal until I find the person I’m looking for. But, everything’s botched.” Stiles threw his hands up. “So, I don’t know. Find an inn? Because this is a jet-lag on another level. I was in Poland at night, portaled to Kansas City and it was daytime, then I waited until it was dark before I portaled here and it was daytime again. I’m going to crash _hard_.”

“You bring a huge backpack, I thought you accidentally portaled here from hiking somewhere.” Peter commented.

“My bag is filled with useful stuff for dimension travel. I know what I’m signing for when I entered the portal,” Stiles said.

“Who’s the person you’re looking for?” Chris asked.

“The Winchesters.” Peter was sure Stiles was smirking, knowing exactly what that information meant to both Peter and Chris.

“You know the Winchesters?” Peter couldn’t help his reaction though.

Stiles finally turned to look at both man with a shit eating grin and a shrug.

“Who’s Castiel?” Chris asked.

Stiles was looking at Chris with a confused stare. “How do you know that?”

“You’re basically yelling that at the lake, you know,” Peter reminded him.

“Oh,” Stiles shrugged. “Well, he’s one of the Winchesters’ friend that called for my help.”

“They called _you_ for help?” Peter couldn’t help to ask.

Stiles just threw him a smarmy grin. Peter thought only him could pull that face and harness it to its full potential of perfect _annoying-ness._ Peter wanted to punch him a little.

“You said that you were expecting to travel between dimension, not time. Does that mean you also have no plan?”

“Speak for yourself, Christopher, I always have a plan.” Chris give him the stink eye.

“Of course I have a plan,” Stiles told them. “We’re going to look for my ancestor, Cirilla.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *threw the chapter then flee*

Stiles sat on the diner until it was near midnight, before he went back to the nightclub where Rowena and Castiel were standing as still as a statue.

“I’m bored,” Rowena muttered when Stiles approached them. “Why has nothing happened?”

Castiel was looking grim and staring at Stiles with an intensity that could burn. Stiles took a deep breath. “I consulted with Triss. I’m going in with Castiel.”

Rowena turned her body fully toward Stiles. “Okay, would you care to explain? Because dear Cas here hadn’t utter a single word after you ran away.”

“I’m going in with Castiel, if we didn’t come back in two weeks time call Triss.” Stiles repeated. Rowena didn’t look impressed.

“Am I going to get an explanation?”

“Later, if we both came back alive and well, hopefully with both Winchesters.” Stiles shrugged. He couldn’t afford to waste time, especially with the time difference. He turned to Castiel. “I need to grab my bag.”

The angel didn’t even protest and went to follow Stiles back to the impala. When Stiles was sure that Rowena was out of hearing range, he told Castiel. “I talked to my aunt. She said the portal is unlike a regular ones, so people with no training should be able to go through without their limbs ending up in different places.”

“It’s a portal between worlds or dimensions. Do you know about those?”

Castiel frowned some more.

Stiles seriously wanted to put Castiel and Derek in the same room to just frown at each other for eternity. If their reaction to everything was to frown, they’ll create a loop of frowning until their eyebrows were gone because they would be burrowed so deep in their faces.

What was he talking about, again?

_Brain, please stop talking._

“Well, technically angels exist on another plane of existence, or dimension. We could travel here and there as easily as walking.” Castiel told him. He unlocked the impala and Stiles grabbed his bag.

Stiles was contemplating whether or not he should bring his laptop. He could charge it, but then there would be no wi-fi, or would there? “Okay, how do you do that? How does an angel do … their stuff?”

Stiles put his laptop on the back seat of the impala, deeming it unnecessary. He grabbed a pen and slipped it in his pocket. His backpack was made specially from a magically infused leather. It’s completely waterproofed and fireproofed. Stiles added a cushioning rune inside so the crystals and glass filled with potion won’t break easily. His bag was kind of indestructible.

“Well, that’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You told me that _you_ , an angel, couldn’t find the Winchesters, but I could? How? I need explaining if we’re going to do this.” Stiles turned to look at the angel. He sighed deeply. “One of my ancestor got the title of _The Lady of Space and Time_. She could teleport between world as easily as walking. And here I am, the best of both world and can’t do _shit._ ”

“Stiles. You really need to stop thinking that you can’t do it. Your biology said you could be both a spark and a nephilim. That alone should be prove enough that you have a huge potential.” Castiel told him hotly. “You… mortals have to train and obey a set of rules to learn magic. Angels don’t have that. We breath magic. Our entire being is magic. How do you teach a person how to breath when it’s already a natural thing to do?”

Stiles groaned. “Was there no other nephilim that could wield magic to teach me?”

“I have no answer for that. Because technically nephilims are banned, illegal. If an angel find one, the procedure says to kill them.”

“What?!” Stiles sputtered. “That doesn’t make any sense. There’s a whole community of shadowhunters out there. Are you going to kill me?!”

“Haven’t I tried to kill you a few hours ago?” Castiel deadpanned. “I could explain it, but it would take time. Don’t we have to hurry back, before Rowena come looking for us?”

“Ugh, fine.” Stiles closed the impala’s door. They walked back toward where Rowena was. “So, Triss told me that if we’re on the same dimension, I should be able to scry for the Winchesters.”

“Okay,” Castiel reached into his pocket and handed him a plastic zip bag. “Their hair.”

“Triss warned me that when we enter the portal we might get separated. We should try to step in the portal at the same time. But that also didn’t guarantee that we won’t get separated. We need to leave track or signal to inform each other presence.” Stiles told the angel while he slips the plastic into his backpack. “What do you suggest we use?”

“You should pray for me.”

 _Uh?_ “What?”

“Us, celestial beings, could hear prayer. If you specifically call my name, I should be able to come and find you.” Well, Castiel did mention about prayers before.

“Wait, do the Winchesters know this?”

Castiel sighed. “Yes, but once I carved their ribs so angels couldn’t track them. Me included. I’ve heard them calling from me, but I can’t pinpoint their location.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Stiles huffed.

Stiles saw Rowena raised her eyebrows from where she stood. Stiles stopped to draw a concealing ward and a confusion rune so people wouldn’t go through the alley anymore and won’t ask questions about why the alley suddenly gone.

Rowena was watching Stiles every movement. “So, you’re also Triss apprentice? Very bold of you to request a hunter for training too.”

“As I said before, any questions would be answered after we’re back. So, you know, you could do more research in the mean time in case something happened so you could go and help us.” Curiosity is a strong motivation. He needed Rowena to be invested in Stiles safety rather than trying to stab him in the back as soon as he demonstrated his power in front of her.

Castiel was standing beside him and Stiles remembered something. “Anyway, if we’re to be separated, the place we’ll land on must have the same destabilized energies like this. You could wait until a portal opened, or wait for me. Do you want to proceed?”

“Isn’t it a bit too late for that question?” Castiel gave him a stern look.

Stiles smiled sheepishly before rolling his shoulder and held his left hand out. Gathering his magic once more to open the portal.

“Alright, here goes nothing.”

.

Stiles didn’t expect for things to go wrong so quickly. He was told to always expect the unexpected, but really, Chris Argent and Peter Hale’s presence was very _very_ unexpected. Having a breakdown in front of the hunter and the wolf was unexpected. Time travel was also unexpected.

He called Castiel, but the angel didn’t come, so once again, he was fucked. Did he need to actually pray? Did he need to be on his knees and clasped his hand? But he couldn’t exactly do it in front of Chris and Peter. There were too many questions whirling in Stiles’ head and the angel was gone. He was planning to pester the angel about everything, _dammit._

The lake he landed on was calm. There was no single trace of stray energies going on. But the fact that there were three people who landed there must have meant something. So, Stiles carved runes around the lake, making some kind of ward. The runes would inform Stiles when triggered by magical activity.

He might have been lying about being prepared for dimension travel. His bag was filled with potions, herbs, and a mountain of sweets. Because using magic was draining your blood sugar really fast.

He knew he was flaunting his magic unnecessarily, also he showed too much confidence than he had any right to, but Chris and Peter weren’t even near the list of people he could trust. So, intimidation it is. Peter and Chris were smart though, probably they would catch up that Stiles wasn’t immortal and they could very much kill Stiles especially in his weakened state. He tried not to show it though.

Peter had decided to dig his hands on the corpse’s pockets. Taking whatever shiny things and coins and anything that seemed to be valuable. “What? We’re going to need money.”

Stiles followed Peter’s lead and patted down the corpses.

“No respect for the dead?” Peter drawled.

Stiles shrugged. “We’re stealing their horses. Might as well take the other things we need.”

“Huh,” Peter mumbled.

Stiles rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but say, “I don’t have half-assed morale like _someone._ ”

Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

“So against killing people, and yet he dragged one’s death which is way even more cruel.”

“Are you talking about your _best-friend_?” Peter asked with a mocking gasp.

“I’m questioning that status now, since he didn’t even tell me about that shit show he’s pulling.” Stiles grumbled.

He saw Chris in the corner of his eyes taking a crossbow and gathering the bolts that scattered around the ground. Stiles eyed one of the corpse and took their baldric and put it on himself. It was stained with blood, but, _eh._

“McCall didn’t tell you?” Chris asked with genuine curiosity. “I thought you won’t have a problem with what my father had done to you.”

Stiles stilled on his way to grab one of the two sword that laid on the ground that wasn’t bent. “You know? Of course you knew.”

Chris face shuttered. “I didn’t. I didn’t know the kidnapping until Dennis snapped out from your spell.”

“Dennis?” Stiles pick up the long sword and inspect it. “Oh, _that’s_ his name, huh? Was that why Peter said you drove by my house a hundred time?”

“I didn’t drove by your house a _hundred_ time.” Chris was throwing Peter a look. The werewolf only grinned. His eyes flickered to the sword in Stiles’ hand. “You sure you could handle sword, Stiles?”

Stiles hummed. Long swords wasn’t his usual preference. He liked to keep one of his hand free to cast a Sign, _so_. Then again he didn’t really need his hand to cast magic as a spark. It’ll just take more energy than the simple Signs. “Do you want to use this? If not, at least we could sell this on the market.”

Chris shrugged and pick up the rapier that was lying on the ground. He also took the bloodied belt on one of the corpse and hung the sword on his side. Well, Stiles want _that_ one. But, well. It’s steel. Stiles really rather having one coated with silver if they sell it on the market. Steel is for humans. He didn’t want to fight humans. He never fight another human being, except the shadowhunters when they spar, but technically they’re half human.

The long sword will do, until he got another one.

Stiles didn’t outright admit he could handle sword, or a number of weapon, for the matter. He liked having something to shock them. In case they did turn against him.

He had dreamt of revealing his identity, really. Not having to keep secrets. Being _accepted_. But he couldn’t help but being aware that he’s something different. Something with _huge potential_ as Castiel put it. He won’t risk it for now.

“So, can you both ride horse?” Stiles asked.

Chris didn’t answer, instead he mounted the horse with ease and grace. The man looked so regal with his clothing and sword and his shiny black stallion. Stiles might had swoon a little.

No amount of angel _grace_ could make Stiles that … graceful. He hated his life.

Stiles glanced at Peter. “Peter, stop drooling.”

The wolf looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I could hear your heartbeat and I could smell your arousal, Stiles.”

“Teenage hormones!” Stiles didn’t mean to shriek and flailed his arms, but he did.

“Children, I could hear you.” Chris said.

Peter blew the man a kiss, before he took a white mare and mounted it. Fucking werewolf grace.

Why was he a flailing mess? Stiles is a goddamn mutated hunter with elven _and_ angel blood running through his vein. _Why?_

Peter threw him a smirk. “The question is, dear Mieczysław, can _you_ ride a horse?”

Oh, it’s _on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to post earlier but my internet succ :(


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Peter and Stiles raced their horse until they found a vast field of vineyard. Peter was honestly impressed with Stiles horse-riding skill. The teen was grinning madly the whole time and the wind was blowing his hair, that Peter had just realized had grown. With the sunlight highlighting the teen’s feature, making his brown eyes looked golden, fair skin dusted with pink from the excitement. Stiles really looked as much prince charming as Chris. He looked rather ethereal.

Chris had no other choice but to follow them. They asked the people working there where was the nearest inn. The person they were asking was looking at Peter weirdly. The trio glanced at each other.

“ _Uh, hello, do you know where’s the nearest inn? We’ve come a long way and we need a place to rest._ ” Stiles said in a … what language was that? It sounded familiar, but Peter couldn’t place it.

The man suddenly brightened. _“Ah, I see. Well, there’s one near my house. I’m going there. It’s in Fox Hollow, we could travel there together.”_

The man’s horse trotted off and Stiles gestured them to follow.

 _“So, what brought you gentlemen to Toussaint? What language were you spoken before?”_ The man said. Peter still didn’t understand a single word spoken. Stiles clearly enjoyed the confused look on Peter’s face, so he scowled instead.

 _“Well, of course we come for the wine!_ ” Then Stiles slipped into a more familiar language in Peter's ear. French. “Our language is pretty rusty, forgive us. I’m from Kovir. Peter here have a weird dialect and we forgot we’re not in out land.”

The man chuckled and waved his hand. “Worry not. Your language’s fine. I’m sorry, we’ve not been properly introduced yet. I’m Guarin.”

“I’m Stiles, that’s Peter and Christopher.” Stiles answered for all of them.

“Anyway. Kovir, huh? You a sorcerer?”

Peter blinked. Did that merchant just shot a million dollar question in one guess? How? How could it took Peter that long to question what Stiles was?

Chris threw a look at Peter, but the wolf only shrugged. Stiles’ heartbeat was normal, so the teenager expected that question?

“I am an apprentice to Kovir’s mage adviser, yes.” Stiles said. “I must say I really enjoyed it here. Except for the Arachnomorphs.”

Peter must say it, the teenager had his way around words, his heartbeat was steady. He was either a very capable liar or he was saying half-truth. He hated not knowing if what he was saying was true or not. He hated not-knowing things in general.

The man laughed. “Pesky spiders, those are. Do you not have them in Kovir?”

“Nah, we have vengeful witches and their curses,” Stiles shrugged. Peter really didn’t know that people in medieval time was aware of … the supernatural.

By the time they reached the inn, the sun was starting to set. Peter couldn’t help but enjoying the ride though. The place was scenic. Green grass and tall trees all around them. Wild flowers scattered around the side of the road. Some of them were wolfsbane, so _that_ was something he need to look out for. The sky was clear and the birds were singing. It seemed like the place was ripped straight out from fairy tale. The knights in full armor patrolling around and men and women in a flourish clothing really drove that point home. He might even see a bard perched on top of a stone fence, playing lively tunes with a lute.

“Here you go, The Ruddy Brush Auberge.”

They separated ways there. Guarin said that his house was a little bit further down across the river.

“Did you just talk about magic with a stranger?” Chris frowned at Stiles, switching back to English. They dismounted their horses and tied them beside another horse in front of the establishment.

“The people in this period is very aware of the supernatural. You could even get a job if you tell them you’re a hunter.” Stiles shrugged, then turned to look at Peter. “They might somehow tolerate elves, dwarfs and magic users, but werewolf is still a no-go.”

“Wait, elves? Those are real?” Peter was intrigued, but Stiles didn’t give him any response. So Peter asked another questions, “What language did you speak the first time?”

“Old Slavic.” Stiles pointed out to a poster that was glued to the wall. “I saw a poster like that pinned to a tree near the vineyard. Then the guy said we’re in Toussaint, I remembered they speak French. I should have realized we’re in Toussaint in the first place by the vast field of vineyard alone.”

“That really doesn’t explain how do you know what language to speak. How do you know Toussaint in the first place?” Peter said slowly.

The teen let out a long sigh. “I said that I’m apprenticed to Kovir’s mage adviser, didn’t I?”

Then he turned toward Chris. “Triss Merigold? Rings a bell?”

Chris eyes widen at the revelation.

“Your aunt? So, she's a... 800 years old mage?” Stiles whipped his head to Peter. The wolf shrugged. “Scott told the pack. Not about the mage part, obviously.”

Stiles snorted, then grabbed his backpack from his horse, then the teen sauntered inside. The inn got a tavern on the first floor. The fact that they traveled through time hadn’t hit Peter until the moment he took a step inside the establishment. He felt like he just entered a filming set, honestly.

The tavern was filled with drunk people. Stiles didn’t pay attention to any of them and walked to the woman who manned the counter, assuming that she was the tavern owner. Stiles asked for three room, but the woman said that there’s only one room left.

The teen just nodded and slides a few _crowns._ Peter made a mental note what the current currency was called. Then the woman told one of her worker to lead them through the backdoor and up the stairs to the room and left the three of them in the small room.

“Well, look at that. There’s only one bed.” Peter turned to look at the teen and the hunter that stood beside him. “It seemed we have to _cuddle._ ”

Stiles took a step forward and turned toward both men. “I’m the one who need sleep the most at the moment. Come back in a few hours and we could take turn. I’m not sharing bed with you, Peter.”

“And you would share a bed with Christopher?” Peter raised both of his eyebrows in question.

“It’s better to share a bed with a hunter than a _predator._ ” Stiles seemed very pleased at the double meaning of the word. “Don’t worry, you could cuddle with Mr. Argent later.”

“Do I even got a say in this?” Chris sighed.

“No.” Peter and Stiles said in unison.

“Wait, why is he Mr. Argent and I’m _Peter_. Do I get no respect in this household?” Peter said in mock offended tone.

“Well,” Stiles eyes flicked to Chris. “I called him daddy once and he fled the room.”

“Oh?” Peter didn’t expect that. “What did I miss?”

Stiles didn’t answer, instead he pushed both men outside of the room. “Enough chit-chat. Now skedaddle.” Then he closed the door in front of their faces.

Peter blinked for a few moment. “Well, I won’t mind if you call me daddy.”

_“Scram, Creeperwolf!”_

Peter grinned at the door. “Okay, what are you suggesting we do in the mean time, Christopher?” The wolf turned to look at his side but Chris had already walking down the stairs.

The hunter stepped back into the tavern and just sat down in one of the empty table. He waved at the waitress and asked for something strong. Peter situated himself in front of him.

“Well, you’re awfully quiet, Christopher.” Peter commented.

“What am I supposed to say?” Chris was rubbing his temple and letting out a long sigh. He didn’t look at Peter, but the wolf expected the hunter to ignore him altogether. So, that’s a good thing.

“I don’t know? Express your shock or panic?”

“I’m trained to not express anything my whole life.” Chris said. The maid delivered Chris his drink. The hunter took a big gulp before he coughed. “Okay, this thing is strong.”

Peter grabbed the tankard to have a taste. But Chris snatched it back. “Order your own.” And he finished the drink and ask for another.

Peter pouted. “You know, I think drinking and risking having your guard down in front of a werewolf definitely count as expressing shock.”

Chris only let out an inaudible grumble.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re a lightweight.” Chris glared at Peter.

“I said, I just need to process.” Chris let out a sigh. “The kid really made me feel a range of things that I didn’t get to feel in the span of 37 years of my life.”

“Uh-huh.” Really, his tongue already loose with one drink? Was it the drink or was it Chris? What was he drinking anyway? It smelled sweet. “Yep. Apparently the kid called you daddy. When does that happen anyway?”

“It’s not like _that_ ,” Chris said. “He was just teasing.”

“Of course the kid is a tease. Have you not notice his oral fixation?” Chris threw Peter another glare.

“He’s a teenager.” Chris grunted. There was a maid filling his mug with another helping of … whatever it was. “Which apparently is also a dangerous mage.”

“We’re in medieval period, Christopher. Twelve years old is deemed an adult enough.” Peter saw Chris was ready to strangle him. “Not that I’m going to start molesting a child! What do you think I am?”

“Sociopathic murderer werewolf.”

“Well,” Peter couldn’t deny that.

“Look, if Stiles insisted that he’s seventeen, he couldn’t possibly be a mage.” Peter said. “Being a mage requires years of training and discipline. The youngest mage known is at least 120 years old. _That’s_ the youngest.”

"Well, he is an apprentice mage.” Chris corrected himself, recalling what Stiles had told them. “That’s still dangerous.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing to worry about as long as we have no ill intention toward him.”

Chris scoffed, “Yeah, say that to yourself. He seemed like he know what he’s doing and I need to find Allison, so I’m not planning to harm him.”

“I’m not having ill intention toward him.” Peter just wanted to punch the teen a little for reminding him of his catatonic state. Or a lot. “I’ve always thought of dear Stiles as interesting. Always seemed out of place. The only teenager who got a brain rather than being driven entirely by their hormones. He protest a lot about a lot of things, but he’s also the one who got what it takes to do the things he deemed right.”

Chris hummed and finished his drink and asked for another refill.

“I never really thought he’ll surprise me even more, though.” Peter mumbled. “I really don’t know which is more surprising. Stiles or me and you drinking in a tavern.”

“It’s only me drinking. You’re free to go.”

“Don’t you think you need to slow down a bit?”

Chris stared at Peter in challenge, before he drank the tankard in one go. “You were saying?”

The hunter suddenly stood up. “You know what, I should find Allison. Let’s see if Stiles had enough rest.” The hunter tried to walk, but instead he tripped on the table’s leg. Peter was there to catch him before he fell face first to the floor.

“Yep. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

Peter need to give him a point for not slurring though. He seemed fine until he actually trying to stand up. But, he was clearly drunk and the drink was definitely not an ale. Peter reached for his pocket and put a few coins on the table. The maid gave him a look.

So, of course Chris had ordered a pricey one. The price was 6 times the cost of the room. Was a roof over someone’s head was cheaper than alcohol? Definitely.

Chris managed to walk without Peter for a few steps before he hit the wall, missing the door by a few inch, before he successfully slipping outside. Peter let out a deep sigh and follow after the hunter.

As soon as he stepped out of the tavern, he got himself an armful of hunter. Peter was a little bit uncomfortable with the proximity of the hunter’s head so close to his throat. But his wolf wasn’t giving out any reaction, so.

This is the perfect position to just slit the hunter’s throat really. But, well, he never really had a problem with Chris himself personally. Only his whole _entire family_. He found that their banter was quite amusing. The hunter was able to keep up with him. It would be a shame to to deprive himself from such a companion. And he really didn’t want to give Stiles another reason to not trust him by killing the hunter without provocation.

Peter hoisted the hunter who was giving very little protest unto his shoulder. He brought the man toward the room and placed him on the bed beside Stiles. Well, he was considering to just dump the hunter on the floor, but he was imagining how the both of them would react in the morning.

So, the bed it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know in the game they're speaking English. But, I can't help but notice the posters and the cyrillic script, which I googled and it seemed like it's Old Church Slavonic? I think. So, yeah.


	17. Chapter 17

Chris woke up feeling warm. He could feel a line of heat on the side of his body and another across his chest. An arm. Before Chris could process more, a wave of nausea hit him. He quickly sat up and also quickly regretting it. His head hurts, everything hurts.

There was something shoved to Chris side and he immediately hurled into the bowl.

“Ugh.”

“Your welcome.” Chris squinted at Peter, who was standing in front of him. The curtain on the window was drawn close, but there’s still some light spilled and he tried not to look at it.

He closed his eyes.

“I’m regretting everything.” Chris grumbled.

“I did tell you to slow down a bit.”

Chris ignored Peter and focused on the arm which have fell on his lap instead. Stiles looked undisturbed in his sleep. Looking soft and not at all dangerous. How a look could deceive.

Chris tried to remove the teen’s hand from his lap, but Stiles had him in a firm grip.

“He’s like an octopus. He draped himself all over you basically the whole night. You two make a really cute image.”

Chris threw a glare to Peter. “Why the hell did you put me on the bed?”

“Would you rather be on the floor and have me on the bed with dear Stiles?” Chris grabbed his pillow and threw it as hard as he could. The wolf caught it easily, which was riling Chris even more. “We could both be on the floor.”

“Oh, just tell me if you want to cuddle me, Christopher. Don’t be shy.” Peter purred. Chris grabbed another pillow-Stiles’, and threw it again. He was sure the movement was jostling the bed, but Stiles didn’t even stir.

“Is he dead?” Chris was staring at the teen who still had his arm draped around Chris’s waist apparently. He tried to stand up, but the teen was gripping his pants.

“He’s definitely not awake.” Peter poked the teen. “Hey, Stiles.”

The teen’s eyes fluttered. Then he grumbled something. Peter poked the teen some more, while Stiles huddled more toward Chris. Chris tried to stand, while the wolf was still poking. Then suddenly the grip on his pants was completely gone. Along with the teenager who grab the blanket and rolled out of bed with a squeak.

Stiles head popped up from the edge of the bed. He was clutching the blanket up to his chin. “Have I been defiled?”

Now Chris wanted to hurl the pillow toward the teen. Instead he just sighed.

“I would rather the first time I lay a hand on you, you would be aware of what I’d like to do to you,” Peter purred.

The teen’s face turned tomato red. He pointed at Peter vigorously, “You can’t toy with a guy’s feeling like that, Peter!”

“I’m completely serious.”

Stiles gaped before it turned to a scowl, before pointing a hand toward Chris. “And what are you doing on the bed with _me_?!”

“Blame Peter.” Chris croaked.

“Why me? You’re the one getting your ass drunk,” Peter mock gasped.

“You could wake me!” Stiles stood up and stomped toward his bag, grumbling all the way. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, my phone’s dead. And, oh! We’re stuck in fucking medieval time!” Peter threw his hands on the air.

Stiles ignored the wolf and kept rummaging the inside of his bag.

“What are you even looking for Stiles? I’ve checked your bag, why do you have so many chocolate that will skip you diabetes and send you straight to grave?”

Stiles whipped his head toward Peter. Eyes glinting dangerously. “You what now? Don’t you know there’s this thing called respect for personal boundaries?”

Alright, here we go.

“Oh, yeah? Maybe you could tell me what it is.” Peter leered. “Give me an example, don’t you think messing with someone’s _head_ is a violation toward someone’s _boundaries_?”

Raising their voices really didn’t help the condition with _Chris’_ head.

“Really? This again? I told you I’m not going to do it again as long as you _behave_.” Stiles turned toward Peter. “And it seemed like you need a reminder.”

Peter’s eyes flashed blue and he was growling.

“Both of you, calm down.” Chris sighed. But none of them seemed to pay any attention toward him.

“I’m just checking your bag. It’s not as personal as someone’s _head.”_ Peter said through gritted teeth. “You’re practically stranger, Stiles. You’ve been nothing but vague and expect us to follow you!”

“I don’t expect anyone to follow me. I don’t need you! _You_ need me.” Stiles sneered. Peter was ready to attack, thus Chris did something stupid.

He threw himself between them.

Chris grabbed both of Peter’s shoulder, and thankfully the werewolf stopped. He glared at Chris, before his eyes were set back toward Stiles. The wolf growled and he seemed like he wanted to ask Chris to move, but it was Stiles who shoved him to the side first.

The kid was surprisingly strong.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Argent? Peter could’ve hurt you!”

“I won’t.” Peter said through a his fangs.

“Yeah, because you’re the model of self-restraint, aren’t you?”

Before Peter could say anything, Chris shoved both of them in the chest as hard as he could. They staggered a little. “Both of you shut up!”

Chris wasn’t the type of person who yelled often. So, of course both Peter and Stiles stopped glaring at each other and looked at Chris with reprimanded look.

“The _three_ of us are stuck here.” Chris started, pausing to let the word seep in. He threw Peter a look. “Stiles is right, we need him. He’s the one who even remotely have an idea about what’s going on.”

Peter looked like he wanted to say something, but Chris held up his palm and glared as hardly as he could. Daring Peter to say something before he was finished. The wolf clenched his jaw shut. Then Chris turned to look at Stiles who was looking smug. “But, Peter is also right. You’ve been vague.”

Stiles’ mouth twitched.

“You’ve shown us that you’re more than capable of handling everything on your own. But that does not mean you could treat us like clueless children.” Chris took a deep breath, letting his word sank in Stiles’ head. “Look, if you don’t want to tell us what you are, it’s well within your right. But we deserve to know what you know about the current situation. We’re all stuck here. _Together_. It would be wise to also work on this together, because me and Peter are _adults_ and we could handle this too.”

Stiles’ shoulder slumped. But his eyes was still hard. “It’s not easy to work together with people I don’t trust.”

“Okay, then we need to start over.” Chris said.

Peter snorted. “Yeah, sure. Shall I start first? Hello, I’m Peter Hale, nice to meet you.”

“Not like that, you asshole,” Chris rolled his eyes. “We couldn’t just act like strangers, we do have history and we can’t ignore that.”

“What are you trying to say, Christopher?” The wolf dropped his stance, but still in no way looking relaxed. His eyes was back to it’s normal hue.

“I’m sorry. I want to say that I’m sorry for what me and my whole family had caused to the both of you. Sorry won’t change anything, I know. It won’t bring the Hales back or undo what Gerard had done to you, Stiles.”

“I’m not mad about what Gerard did to me, but I’m offended that your daughter was so easily manipulated by her crazy aunt.”

Chris let out a sigh. "Yeah, we’ve talked about that. We both are trying to be better.”

“Better hunter?” Peter asked.

“Better human being. Our code is bullshit and we want to fix it.”

“Okay, then, I’m sorry that you’re saddled with such a crappy family.” Stiles offered.

“I just want you to know that I have no ill intention toward you, Stiles.” Chris sighed. “Well, as long as you also have no ill intention toward anyone else.”

Then Stiles throw his gaze over to Peter. He pointed a finger out. “But that one _only_ have ill intention.”

Peter sneered, “Oh? You want to tell me that you can read mind too, now?”

“Anyone with half a brain could deduce that you like to know everything, so when shit hits the fan, you’re ready to _manipulate_ everyone.” Stiles hissed, his eyes glinted too gold to be human.

Chris tried to read Stiles’ body language. Stiles was heaving. His stance was rigid and his shoulder a little bit hunched. The teen’s eyes were a little glassy. _Of course._

The teen was scared to reveal what he was because he was afraid of being used.

Well, Peter was an expert manipulator. His fear was definitely rational.

Chris sighed deeply. “I’ve said my piece. Now your turn.”

“What? I have nothing to apologize for to you,” Stiles snapped his head to look at Chris like he had grown another head.

Peter shrugged, “And I’m definitely not going to apologize for killing your sister.”

“Not to me. Both of you are the one who tried to kill each other just a minute ago.” Chris massaged his temples.

“Playing psychiatrist, are we, Christopher?”

“We can’t have slight argument that turned into killing spree every single time, especially when we have another giant tarantulas hot on our heels.”

Peter and Stiles only proceeded to stare at each other again.

“We’re not going anywhere until both of you settle this.”

“That’s fine by me,” They said in unison, which only seemed to anger both of them more.

Chris rolled his eyes, because, “Both of you are really similar to each other. It would be a lot easier if you join forces rather than fight.”

They seemed to be ready to protest, but ended up clenching their mouth shut. The staring kept for God knows how long. Chris was ready to just sit down and glare at the both of them for the whole day. Then Stiles sighed.

“Okay! I’m sorry I used my magic on you.”

That word seemed to tick Peter off more. “Do you even know why you need to apologize for that?”

Stiles blinked. “Because being magically assaulted wasn’t fun?”

Peter let out a growl, his eyes flashed electric blue once again. “For one so fearing manipulation, you don’t even consider what you did to me was basically the same? Forcing me to do what I don’t want to do.”

Stiles eyes widen.

“Do you know how it feels like when you have no control over your body and yet still able to feel and aware of everything that happened around you? Do you know how it feels like to stuck in that state for six years?” Peter sneered.

Ah, Chris really didn’t think it would open up a sensitive matter for Peter. Now he was confused that Peter hadn’t make an actual attempt to kill the teen, just for that.

Stiles looked taken aback. “I-I don’t think about it like that.” Stiles finally stammered out.

“Of course, you don’t _think._ ”

“I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean to make you relive your catatonic state.” Stiles frowned, but he seemed to sincerely mean the word. Peter didn’t answer, then Stiles proceed to ramble. “I … don’t know how to act around people who just found out about my magic. There’s only a handful of people who actually know what I am. You see, my dad and Scott doesn’t even in the list of those people who know. I only get to use my magic on summer where I go to visit Triss. Even then, all I do is practice with her. I never really use my magic on another human being, except the occasional curse lifting. The first person I’ve actually use the hypnosis on was only that hunter that work for Gerard.”

Stiles took a deep breath. “I really am sorry, Peter. You’re right, I didn’t think.”

Peter finally let his eyes back to their normal color. “Fine, you’re forgiven.”

Chris almost threw his hand up and yelled ‘finally.’

But, of course Stiles need to say another thing. “If it would make you feel better, you could punch me.”

“Stiles.” Chris warned. Goading an angry werewolf was simply a stupid move and one should not actively trying to get themselves harmed.

“Don’t hold back, I could handle one hit.” Stiles said.

Then Peter threw a punch. Of course he would. The teen staggered a little, blood running down his nose. “Okay, _that_ was weak. I told you don’t hold-”

Then Peter punched him again. Audibly harder, Stiles actually doubled back and hit the wall. Stiles spit out blood and grinned with bloodied teeth. His face was a mess. A bruise was starting to form quickly on his pale skin.

Chris ran to him and cradled his face in his hand. The kid was crazy.

“You are insane,” Peter breathed, then took a long stride toward them and instantly took Stiles’ pain.

“I told you I could handle _one_.”

Peter had the gall to shrug and grin. “Well, you’re asking for it.”

Stiles snorted, “Feel better?”

“Yes,” Peter said. Chris throw the wolf a look, ready to yell, again. But he felt Stiles patting his cheek.

“I’m fine Mr. Argent.” Then Stiles proceed to push both men away from him and strolled back toward his bag.

The teen pulled out a vial of red liquid and chugged the content in one go. Stiles face instantly soured and he let out a shudder. "Ugh."

“What is that?” Chris found himself asking.

“Poison.” Chris blinked.

“Did you perhaps meaning to say potion?” Peter was the one who asked. He looked just as bewildered as Chris was.

“No. I’m saying it’s a poison. Try to drink these and you’ll find yourself dying a slow and agonizing death.” Stiles said. He threw both of the men a shit eating grin. He was still bloodied, but the bruise that was stark blue on his face started to fade. “But, it is also a healing-potion. Just for my kind though.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at that, but thankfully didn’t say anything about it. “So, you’re a masochist.”

“No.” Stiles put the vial aside. “I thought we are having a heart-to-heart talk just before, Peter. Don’t you have something to say?”

“Well, the point of this talk is to try and build a foundation of trust, right, Christopher?” Peter said slowly. Chris only raised his eyebrows, because he didn’t know where this was going. “Then I’m not going to lie and say that I feel sorry about anything that I’ve done that have anything to do with the both of you.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Peter. The wolf meet the teen’s eyes, before proceeding to shrug. “Fair enough.”

Chris really need to stop expecting there's any piece of normality in Stiles Stilinski.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back.
> 
> There's so many work deadline in this week and now I feel dead on the inside :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

When Stiles suggested that all of them talk in the tavern while having breakfast, Peter immediately pointed out that the coin he got couldn’t even afford them a slice of bread. Chris immediately look a little sheepish. Then, Stiles pulled out a gold ring and bracelets from his pants, which he looted from the corpses back in the field, and declared their problem were solved for the moment.

They all get themselves a grilled chicken sandwich and water. Well, only Chris got water. Peter and Stiles got an ale. Both men raised an eyebrow at the teen for a completely different reason.

“You shouldn’t drink that,” Chris said. They found themselves slipping back and forth between English and French.

“Come on, this is the 13th century. I’m technically an adult.” Stiles said while drinking the ale, feeling the warmth seeping slowly through his stomach, and reveled in the way Chris frowned with disapproval.

Peter who sat in front of Stiles, beside Chris, leaned toward him and whispered conspiratorially. “I know right? Told him just that last night.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at that, because, “Oh, you’re talking about me last night?”

“You totally mesmerize me, Stiles. And Chris seemed to have problem with me planning to woo you, then he got drunk.” Peter fluttered his eyelash at Stiles. The teen really couldn’t tell if the wolf was being witty or serious.

“That wasn’t what happened.” Chris sighed. Then being the most level-headed of the group, he steered back the conversation toward its original path. “Look, if I’m getting this right, Triss Merigold is supposed to be in a kingdom called Kovir in this era, right? Why don’t we ask her for help rather than your ancestor?”

Stiles took his time to munch on his sandwich. “Triss won’t be able to help us. I consulted her before I jump in the portal, she only got a vague idea.”

“But you're sure that your ancestor would be able to help us?” Peter asked slowly. He looked part impassive part calculating. Peter was always calculating, what was he hoping?

 _Damn it_ , why did he get stuck with the smart ones?

“Yes.”

“You know you have to explain more than that.” Peter told him. “Was your ancestor more powerful than an 800 years old mage?”

Ugh, did he really need to come clean to them that Cirilla was a strong spark, therefore outing himself as a spark too?

At first he was hoping to try and pull off the cryptic act that seemed popular in the magic user community. Stiles definitely wasn’t all-knowing as he try to act. They would be stuck here in the foreseeable future－past? This was very confusing. They would figure out his bullshit one way or another.

He could only get away with talking vaguely for so long and they _had_ noticed it andpointed that out to him. He probably need to learn from Deaton to be a cryptic asshole after they got back.

“Wait, the door to your Aunt’s shop. That’s … a portal too, isn’t it?” Chris suddenly asked. Stiles nodded.

Peter whipped his head toward the hunter. “Wait, you know Stiles’ aunt?”

“No. I was going to make acquaintance of her, but what I found was Stiles.” Chris said, then he ducked his head face reddening. Stiles could guess what was on his mind and tried to look as innocent as possible. “Your act was very convincing. I thought you’re a warlock.”

“Why thank you.” Stiles couldn’t help but grinned. “I did put a glamour－illusion spell.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “So, portal in your aunt’s shop. And portal in graveyard and alleyway. What correlation do these places have?”

“Graveyard?” Stiles couldn’t help but asked. Peter told him that the portal in Beacon Hills was showing up in the graveyard. He really thought it would be somewhere in the preserve though. Because of the Nemeton there. It would make sense. Now it didn’t.

Stiles let out a breath. He really need to try to trust them and work together, didn’t they?

He began to explain. “Okay, so. All magic users could make a portal. They have different methods, of course, but the result is more or less the same. A portal. The portal could get you through one place to another, like a door. But it could only get you anywhere within one dimension.”

“This portal that we all fell in is … stray. It wasn’t made by a magic user, it sorts of just popped out of nowhere. Triss said it wasn’t a rare occurrence. It happens all the time, but not simultaneously like this. The portal could open in, say Beacon Hills for one minute, then it will open in the next hour in Los Angeles, or New York, or even Paris. Point is, it’s random.”

“Are you sure that a tearing in fabric of reality just happens all the time?”

Stiles hummed. He thought neither Peter nor Chris would really understand what he’s saying. Thus he’s not trying to explain how a portal was made in a technical way of folding and tearing the space of the universe. But of course Peter would have some ideas about it. “Yes. Not in this scale though. The portal stayed far too long in one area and it’s actually opening up in several different places at once. That’s not normal.”

Peter frowned. “I still don’t get it. Magic is energy right? And magic users are the only ones who could harness it. So, how’s it open on its own?”

“Magic is chaos.” Stiles said. His eyes darted to Chris who seemed to be having a hard time grasping anything. “Magic users control that chaos. We manipulate that chaos into a usable energy. Channel it to other spells. Make things flow, not flood. That’s why there’s High Warlock in almost every city. To regulate the flow.”

Peter leaned forward. He seemed eager and fascinated as a puppy. Stiles didn’t know how he got from having goosebumps around the wolf to comparing him to a puppy. “So, when the chaos isn’t flowing, it could… clot?”

Stiles threw him a finger gun and a wink. Peter rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop from grinning. “You know, the few magic users I’ve met never been this forth coming. Don’t you think you went from keep it vague to trusting very quickly?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at that. He wasn’t really worried about them knowing about magic itself. He’s worried that if they know the scope of raw power Stiles got and they would manipulate _him_. “Magical knowledge is, uh, a knowledge. I mean, it’s like school subject, really. There’s a historical aspect to it, there’s a chemical reaction, there’s art. Magic is complex. I bet the only magic users you met is witches, they don’t know shit.”

“You know, even though you’re a mage in the making doesn’t mean you should underestimate their power, Stiles.” Peter said with a kind and amused voice. Stiles really thought the wolf would be all sneer and veiled threat. Stiles found that for once Peter’s word didn’t really grate him the wrong way.

“I am not talking about raw power. Or talent. I’m talking about their… education.” Stiles said. It’s been a while since he actually have a talk about magic with other person than Triss. It’s quite exciting. “Okay, what do _you_ know about the difference between magic users this far, Peter?”

Peter seemed to think about it for a moment, before answering. “All I know is that in term of raw power witches are less than sorcerer or sorceresses. Then mages and warlocks are strongest.”

Looking at Stiles’ wide grin, he added. “And it seems like I was about to be thoroughly educated.”

“Between mages and witches, there’s no telling about the raw power. Warlocks? Definitely.” Stiles began. His hand start to move as he explain. “Mages are just a unisex term for sorcerers and sorceresses and it’s actually a only term for ‘scholar’ witches. Like a degree.”

“So, if you’ve met witches before and they won’t tell you anything, it’s most probably because they’re not equipped with the right tool to answer your questions.” Stiles took a sip of his ale. “Other reason is, well, witches are… self-learning, from grimoire that passed down in the family or their coven. They tend to guard it closely like a secret family recipe. They won't share information to a stranger willingly.”

“Then why don’t they just educate all of them then?” Peter asked, before Stiles could answer, Chris cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your bonding session, but I think we should talk about the immediate concern first.” Chris said. For once he didn’t look so serious, even though his word was. He was leaning against the wall beside him and throwing them both a grin. Peter pouted at him.

The hunter was probably reveling in the feeling of being able to make a truce between Peter and Stiles.

Stiles let Chris have his moment, because honestly he was glad that Chris pushed the matter. He wouldn’t ever considered that Peter was actually capable of having emotion other than manipulative and murderous. Did those count as emotions? He didn’t know. Whatever.

Stiles really did feel bad. He found himself shocked at his own sympathy for the wolf.

“Where was I?”

“Portals, clotted magic.” Peter was completely ignoring his chicken sandwich. He seemed to be more hungry for information. “Do you think that there’s someone killing the High Warlocks in these places that made this happen? Or maybe some evil warlock behind this? Anyway, they’re half-demons, are they evil?”

“I don’t think anyone killing High Warlocks, because there’s not one in Beacon Hills. That I know for sure. Evil warlocks? Maybe. But to create a disruption this scale it must take a great deal of power, it could be a group of evil warlocks or something else entirely.” Stiles groaned. “There’s really only very little evidence found. I don’t know what to make of it, yet. My only hope is to find my ancestor.”

“How are you going to find your ancestor, then? Scrying?” Chris asked slowly. Stiles need to give him props for being able to keep up with the conversation. Because Stiles’ head was starting to spin with the lack of concrete information.

Stiles nodded and gripping his medallion. “I scried her last night, before I passed out. And I completely forgot that she likes to move.”

Cirilla have the ability to portal here and there, so when he tried to look for her, she was in the middle of an icy rocky terrain and teleported to a bar. He saw her bringing a trophy of a Leshen head and asked for a reward to a burly man. Then she suddenly moved again to a middle of city that looked nothing like the snowy landscape.

“So, my ancestor is really _really_ good with teleporting. She’s constantly moving here and there. I don’t think we could catch up with her. So, we’ll visit her home in Corvo Bianco. Well, not technically hers, but her father’s. Not her real father, though, because he was dead when she was a baby. We’ll just wait until she’s there, because she’s bound to be there at some point.” Stiles said. He grabbed his backpack and stood up, only stopping himself short to slinging the backpack over his shoulder. He remembered there’s a long sword strapped there. “Alright, let’s get moving and resume our conversation on the way.”

Peter suddenly remembered his chicken sandwich. He quickly wolfed down, _heh_ , wolf, his breakfast. They all were about to mount their horses, before Chris suddenly said something.

“You know, those giant tarantulas seemed to be vulnerable to silver.”

Stiles slapped his own forehead, because he momentarily forgot about that. “Oh, yeah. Monsters around, we’re going to need silver weapons.”

And, oh _fuck_. Monsters. Stiles hunted lesser demons and lift lots of curses, but monsters? He’d been whining about being witcher in 21st century sucks. There’s so many amazing and brave tale about Geralt of Rivia in Triss’ bookshelves. Then now, the chance to be a proper witcher finally arrived. He couldn’t decide if he was excited or terrified.

“Monsters? Like werewolves?” Peter snorted. He was on his horse, looking majestic, looking down on Stiles with a smarmy smirk. Stiles didn’t realize he had a thing for men on horses.

He didn't want to find any _thing_ for Peter, really.

“Yes, actually,” Stiles looked around for sign board. Maybe there’s some easy job nearby for coins. He supposed they could make do with steel weapon coated in oils for now. “But, since we’re in Toussaint, high chances we got vampires rather than werewolves.”

“Uh, excuse me? Were you meaning to say we’ve portaled to a Twilight universe?” Peter asked.

Stiles ignored him because he finally saw a sign board. He grabbed the reins of his horse and beckoned her forward. Chris followed him, so did Peter. He carefully inspects the writing. “Hm, missing husbands, childrens, oh! Wanna clear a mining site of Giant Centipedes or Specters in graves?”

Chris huffed a breath.

“Stiles. Explain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally watch the TV show and boi I fell in love with Yen.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back. As always, enjoy!

In the end, Stiles grabbed one of the missing children contracts that paid the highest crowns. He read the information about where to find the person who put up the contract and went to the direction shown.

“Ever wondered where all this … supernatural creature came from, Mr. Argent?”

Stiles glanced at Chris who fell into step beside him. Peter trotted behind them. He saw Chris still trying to close his eyes and he was gripping his horse’s rein a little too hard. The teen took pity on him and saw a wild moleyarrow alongside the river. Stiles grabbed it and shoved it toward him.

“Chew this. Won’t taste good, but it’ll ease the headache and settle your stomach.”

Chris squinted at him, but the teen’s face was carefully blank. Against his better judgment, the hunter took the plant and chew it. His face instantly soured, Stiles couldn’t stop the laugh at that.

“I know, it’s _awful_. Just swallow it and you’ll feel ten times better already. Just like magic.”

Chris still looked at him with a pinched face, but did as he was told. He blinked for a moment. “Huh. Just like magic.”

“But, I don’t think my palate would ever be the same ever again, thank you,” Chris said. Stiles grinned. “Anyway, the origin of werewolves or a number of other creatures weren’t in the Argent bestiary and it never occurred to me to ask.”

Peter snorted. “As long as you know how to kill them, nothing else is important.”

Chris only shrugged. “Can’t deny that.”

“Would you do me the honor of shedding some light on Mr. Argent, Zombiewolf?” Stiles threw a grin at the wolf, who returned it with a predatory smile.

“Why of course, my dear.”

“Chris.” He heard the hunter grumbled.

Stiles whipped his head toward the older man. “What?”

“Just call me Chris.” Stiles raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, we’ve established our starting ground. No need for formality. Plus I’m eating a god-awful herbs as a sign of good faith.”

Stiles blinked, he felt like his face would be stuck in a grin. “Okay then, Chris. Peter you may proceed.”

“Wait, I have a feeling you would revise my explanation.” Peter narrowed his eyes at the teen.

Stiles pursed his lips and arched a judgemental eyebrow. “You’re a born wolf. Your pack never tells you a story about your… ancestor? How the first werewolf was created?”

“Well, we told our pups bedtime stories about a tribe which was scared of the incoming winter season and asked the help of the beautiful violet-eyed goddess of the moon who bestowed the gift of the wolf. Enhancing our senses and made our blood run warmer, perfect for facing harsh winter night.” Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. “Now, bless us with the truth, o wise mage.”

Stiles wanted to slap Peter, but the wolf was too far from his hand. “Well, as far as I know, that story is true. But that wasn’t the full story.”

“And here we all, the hunters, thought that werewolf is a curse.”

“Well it was,” Stiles said nonchalantly. “And also a disease.”

“I really don’t know if I should be offended because of having a ‘curse’ or ‘disease’.” Peter hummed.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Well, not you, or your line of werewolves. But there are other ways of making wolves, you know?”

“Huh, if I think of it, it kind of made sense if it was a disease. Especially if you could be ‘infected’ through bite or being clawed.” Peter wondered.

Stiles beamed at the wolf, “I know right? Magic could be explained easily through the scientific method. Because it’s a branch of science!”

Chris cleared his throat and fixed the teen a look. Stiles couldn’t bring himself to feel bad, because fanboying over magic with Peter was fun, _okay_?

“At first, lycanthropy is a form of virus that came from a demon. There are two clans of demons who have been at war for millenniums. They kind of made this ‘bio-weapon’ and infect humans. One clan made a werewolf, the other one made a vampire. Because of that, vampires and werewolves also normally never got along.” Stiles said. Pausing for a breath. “Then, come the magic users studied it and thought _‘Hey, it’s not a bad idea. Let’s try to recreate them!_ ’ and BAM!”

“They created a curse to make werewolves, but it didn’t turn exactly how they want it. These werewolves are feral. A lot stronger, but a lot uncontrollable, bad news is they don’t need to be Alpha to spread the curse. They roamed the earth for quite a while and spread like wildfire. It was quite some time until there’s a mage that is skillful and smart enough to figure out a solution.”

Stiles spun and gestured at Peter with a grandiose. “Thus, the _perfect_ kind of werewolf is created. Your dynamic of Alpha, Beta, and Omega made it easier for population control.”

“You also have more control over the wolf, but well, if you compare it to the other two kinds you are considerably weaker. Though it is still enough to turn a curse and a disease into a _gift._ So, yeah, the moot point of your bedtime story is instead of a goddess, they encountered a mage that was in need of guinea pig.”

There was a moment of silence from both the hunter and werewolf, before Chris finally said.

“That’s… a lot to process.”

Peter scoffed. “Tell _me_ about it. Now, we have to revise the story _and_ keep it child friendly. It seemed telling them about demons and curses before sleep wouldn’t be a fun bedtime story.”

The wolf’s word provided an image of a soft-looking Peter who’s telling bedtime stories to a bunch of werewolf children. Stiles didn’t know why it made his heart flip-flopped.

They arrived at the house of the man who put out the missing child contract. Stiles tried to gather his thought while haggling for more crowns. He threw his glamour on and changed his eye color to yellow with cat-like slit pupils. _Hey_ , if he’s playing a witcher, might as well assumed their full look. The man who’s putting the contract grumbled about _‘fucking witcher’_ but relented and pay half upfront. As far as it went, Stiles really enjoyed this part of the witchering job.

Stiles asked the man where was his child last seen and who’s the last person to saw him. The man pointed him toward his backyard and that he was the last to saw his child playing with their dog. He described his son, Brom, as blonde and have freckles and that he was wearing a simple blue tunic. He was missing since yesterday evening.

Stiles didn’t have it in him to point out that a ten years old being alone at night out there had little chance to survive.

Stiles proceed to inspect the area.

As soon as the man left him to work, Chris asked him. “He called you a－”

“Witcher.” Stiles turned to show them his eyes. Peter finally dismounted from his horse. “This is the era where demonic diseased monsters roam the earth, of course they would need their own special kind of hunters. Mutants. With enhanced senses and strength than regular humans to fight these monsters. This cat-like eyes is their signature look.”

“Witchers are seen as demonic, but at least people trust them as a capable hunter. Stray children taught the way of ‘foul’ sorcery. They tend to be materialistic, though.” Stiles grinned as he dangled the pouch full of coins. “Can’t deny that these coins sound very beautiful right now.”

Stiles proceeded to inspect the area.

“What are we looking for?” Chris folded both of his arms in front of his chest. He looked at the ground where Stiles was staring. The teen saw overlapping track of a child’s feet. One tracks looked far clearer than the rest, leaving the earth a little darker.

“I know you’re assuming this hunter persona, but do you know what you’re doing?” Peter asked, peering over Chris's shoulder to try and look at what Stiles was seeing. “Please don’t tell me you’re an actual witcher.”

Stiles was looking around to where the track began and saw a puddle of drying mud near the house. The liquid wasn’t clear, but it was white. Milk. Stiles opened his mouth to answer Peter but it was the hunter who already drew a conclusion. “You are, aren’t you? You have enhanced senses. Back at the lake, you could hear me over a distance. Then your confidence in being able to take Peter’s punch.”

Stiles put on a blank face. It was hard to maintain, because he kind of wanted to grin. He thought he could drag this out a little bit more and see how much information he could drop until they guessed right.

“Don’t forget the poison that is only for ‘your kind’,” Peter snorted. “You should stop surprising us for every hour, what if Christopher’s heart couldn’t take it and he got a heart attack?”

Stiles relented and broke into a grin at that. Chris slapped the back of the wolf’s head. “Don’t make it sound as if I’m eighty.”

“Close, though,” Peter quipped and that earned him another smack.

Stiles snorted and shook his head before following the child’s track, beckoned his horse forward too. He decided to call her Roscoe, just like his jeep. Since it had been overnight, the smell of the milk and the track had faded, so they need to hurry.

“So,” The wolf-whistled. “Enhanced hearing and strength, and magic. Was the magic all you or is it part of being a witcher? I mean it sounded a lot like witch-er.”

“A little bit of both.”

“You know I think it would be best if you just let everything out, instead of keeping everyone in suspense,” Peter said.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Stiles smiled at the wolf sweetly.

“You said there are monsters like the giant tarantulas prowling freely in this period, do you think a child could survive a whole night outside, then?” Chris asked.

“Not really. But, if we could find the child alive, very good then. At the very least, we need to find closure for the father.” Stiles shrugged. “And anyway those giant tarantulas are called Arachnomorphs.”

“Do you also have an enhanced eyesight too? Because I have no idea what you’re looking at.” Peter fell into step beside the teen and stared at the ground.

“I saw the fresh track of the kid walking this way. There’s also a puddle of spilled milk starting back in the house. The track is fading, but I smell the milk this way.”

Stiles stopped walking because Peter put a hand over his chest. The teen looked at the older man with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, obviously you haven’t done much scent tracking, you need to considerate the wind too.” The wolf grinned then he tugged Stiles into another direction. “If he’s gone last night then, the wind had carried the scent a little bit to the side.”

Stiles let himself being dragged by the wolf, until the scent of milk was suddenly getting stronger. They stopped in front of an entrance to a cave a little bit outside of Fox Hollow. He couldn’t stop himself from sniffing loudly, “Smells like lots of milk. Doesn’t necessarily smells like there are cows in there, though.”

“Look at you, sniffing like a good tracking dog.”

Stiles turned to look at Peter with an exaggerated gasp. “You just made a dog-joke! Welcome to the club. The werewolf should be at the receiving end, though, that’s how it works.”

Peter rolled his eyes. Stiles tapped his feet on the ground while he was thinking. “I don’t know what to expect when we go in, but if things go bad Chris needs to look for higher ground and use the crossbow. Me and Peter are more durable in a fight, we’ll be fine.”

Chris didn’t say anything but he nodded.

Stiles went toward Roscoe and once again rummaging the content of his backpack. He pulled out a pen. He gestured Chris forward and grabbed his forearm. He draw a protection rune, to lessen the damage if Chris ever got a scratch or a hit. “That should provide basic protection for now. Try not to smudge it.”

Stiles unsheathe his sword with one hand and snapped his other finger to summon will o’ the-wisp which floated around them to light the way. He gestured Peter to move first while Chris and the teen went a few steps back. Chris threw a questioning look and give a pointed look at the sword in the teen’s hand. He only offered an exaggerated wink and a grin as an answer.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

It took every ounce of Peter’s self-restraint to not haul Stiles somewhere and just pick on his brain for the rest of eternity. The kid was layered in surprise and Peter wanted to strip him bare and laid everything down in front of him. He knew the kid was special to a certain degree, but he surpassed every expectation that Peter set. He was in a state of mixed arousal and excitement and fear.

He wondered if the kid could smell his arousal.

Stiles probably could.

The teen didn’t seem to actually recoil to Peter’s flirting. But also didn’t take him seriously. That needed to change. The kid ignited something in him.

Peter had intended to bite the kid on the wrist that would turn him as a mate, when he was ... not in his right mind. The kid had smelled like sunshine and a field full of flowers. His smell was warm and comforting, it chased away all scent of fire and ashes and burning flesh. He smelled so lively in the middle of all death that surrounded him.

His wolf had wanted the kid. The wolf had been closer to the surface at that time. He didn’t know what restrained him to force the bite on Stiles, but he was glad he didn’t bite him without consent. Especially now that he had the chance to get to know the teen a bit better. Knowing about the wonder of another life he’d been living.

Stiles deserved so much more than a half-hearted mating bite that was given by a feral Alpha wolf. Peter wanted to know him a lot better and then court him properly.

Peter shook his head a little and tried to focus his mind on the task at hand, he would think of a wooing plan later. His eyes quickly adjusted on the dark path of the cave. The scent of milk was getting stronger and now he could also smell a faint tang of blood.

Both Chris and Stiles’ footsteps were completely silent and if he possess the ability to hear the steady heartbeat of those two, he wouldn’t even know they were there. Then he heard it, a combination of scream and sob of a child, a shuffling of heavy footsteps, and a deep gravelly voice.

“Let the child go. Human child taste bad.”

Peter glanced at Stiles, but the kid only tilted his head and wordlessly told him to keep going. He heard the sound of bubbling water, further sniffing told him that it was boiling milk with potatoes and meat. Though the moment he could actually saw what happened, he was quite horrified. He had his fair share of committing violence and witnessing one. But the sight of a cooked body part still made him wanted to retch. There were mutilated bodies of dogs and humans here and there. Some of the blood still smelled fresh. Alongside with mountains of potatoes and carrots in a broken chart that sat in the corner of the cave.

He saw five big hulking creatures that looked like its skin was covered in pebbles and rocks. Two of them were standing beside a huge pot. One of them was stirring the pot of milk stew, then the other one was holding a tied-up child in a blue tunic, Brom, just above the boiling water. The kid wriggled but the hand that were holding him was immovable.

Then there was an old man standing in front of those creatures. He couldn’t see the face, the man had his back on them. He got a shoulder-length white hair so just assumed that the guy was old. He got two swords on his back, still sheathed. He was holding out a hand as if trying to calm a scared animal.

Peter heard Stiles’ heartbeat suddenly beat a lot faster. He turned to look at the teen, whose eyes were wide and his mouth gaping.

“Oh Lord,” He whispered. “If he is who I think he is, I haven’t prepare my _heart_.”

Peter scrunched his eyebrows together. He glanced a little at the old man and the creatures but they didn’t seem to hear them.

“I am calm. I am totally calm and collected and very, _very_ cool.” The teen mumbled.

Peter stared pointedly at Stiles’ heart. “I am sure you are.”

Stiles scent was a mix of panic and excitement. Then he took a deep breath and slowly exhaling, while keeping the litany of “I’m calm”s.

“Trollies humanses eat every day.” He heard another deep gravelly voice, which came from the creature, who talked not unlike a simpleton. “Big humanses good. Why small humanses bad?”

“Small humanses need to grow to taste good.”

“Then Witchy taste good?”

“He’s foul.” Peter looked at Stiles whose heartbeat had slowed down to normal. The teen made himself known and stepped further in. He left the will o’ the-wisp flying around Chris though. It seemed the little witcher could see in the dark as well as Peter was.

“I taste good. The right age, tender enough, ya know?”

Chris grabbed Peter’s shoulder and hissed, “What is he doing?”

“I have no idea,” Peter grumbled. “I have no idea what was on his mind then, I still have no idea what’s going on in his head now. But I think we should stand by and trust him.”

The old man from before finally spare a glance at Stiles, but he said nothing. Now that Peter looked at his face, he knew that the man wasn’t that old. Probably around his and Chris’s age.

Stiles stopped just a few steps away from the white-haired man. Peter noticed that the kid seemed to be missing his sword. Peter turned to look around where he stood but didn’t find the sword anywhere on the ground either.

_Illusions?_

Stiles held out his two hands that seemed empty. “You could have me, but let the child go first.”

The creature seemed to be exchanging glances, then shrugged and set the child down. Stiles took another step forward into the creature’s open arm, but then he revealed his sword and stabbed one of the creature right on the chest, which didn’t seem to even pierce the skin. The creature staggered backward though, away from the child who writhed on the ground, dangerously close to the fire and boiling pot.

The white-haired man also moved fast and held out a hand, drew a pattern in the air just like what Stiles did when he was casting magic back at the lake, that seemed to send some kind of telekinetic force that sent the one that stirred the pot backward, before drawing out his own sword.

The other three who had seemed to not paying attention suddenly realized that their friends were in danger and roared. Peter roared back and charged, Chris followed suit at a much humane speed.

“That’s not silver sword,” The man said, without missing a beat from slashing one of the creature. The creature bleeds but then it used its pebbled arm to defend itself.

“Yep. Didn’t have the coin to get one, yet.” Stiles replied. He was thrusting the sword with one hand instead of two, then cast the same spell as the white-haired man and blasted the creature he was fighting a few more steps back.

Peter saw Chris at the corner of his eyes trying to get a stab on one of another creature who seemed to be keen on staying still and protect itself under his pebbled arm and rendered Chris’ advances useless. Stiles then yelled, “Chris, secure the kid!”

Chris didn’t even ask any questions or stopped to protest and quickly turned to grab the kid.

Peter got faster kill on one of the creatures, bringing it down, then moved on to the other. He felt the white-haired man burning gaze and Peter couldn’t help but grin at him. Peter was in his beta shift.

The man dragged his gaze away from Peter and reached toward his satchel that was tied around his belt. “Ogroid oil.” Then the man threw a vial of those at Stiles who caught it without even looking.

The teen once again sent the creature staggering a few steps back with a thrust of his sword plus the magical force. Stiles quickly uncapped the vial and doused his sword with the liquid and went back to slash the creature. His sword finally able to pierce the skin of the creature.

One of the creature who Chris had fought earlier seemed to realize that he was no longer being attacked and started to walk toward the fight. It didn’t charge though, just grabbed a huge boulder and hurl it in the general direction of Stiles.

“Stiles, watch out!”

Peter was too far from them, but the white-haired man stepped and turned. One hand was thrown open at the boulder and created a magical shield. The boulder hit the shield and instantly shattered into pieces and the shield dropped. “Shouldn’t let your back open, kid.”

The creature that the white-haired man fought earlier was now advancing at the man’s own open back, arms raised. Stiles swirled, cutting open the stomach of the one he fought and ended his move with a thrust of his sword against the other creature who had its arms raised, completely leaving its chest open. The creature went down and Stiles stepped back and swiftly ended the one with torn abdomen. The kid threw a shit-eating grin at the man. “Shouldn’t let yours open too.”

The man glanced at Stiles for a split second before he let out a mix of a grunt and a snort. He took a step forward with Stiles right beside him. They fought the other creature together. Their fighting style were different, but they managed to dance around each other perfectly. They were both fast. Though Stiles was even more swift and his move refined, leaving far more trails of cuts. For once he didn’t even stumble or stutter like he usually move. The white-haired man struck the creature fewer, but with stronger force and deeper cuts. But there’s no denying that both of them were efficient and deadly. Between the two of them, they brought the creature down faster, around the same time Peter finished his.

Peter heard the man and Stiles heaved a heavy breath.

He was honestly feeling like he had a good exercise. The creatures were extremely slow, but their skin was quite tough and their blows even tougher. He caught the pebbles a few times, getting smacked another few times, causing his own hand and sides to bleed. He could feel his own injuries were healing slowly, then dropped his shift. He walked toward the other two men, a witty remark ready at the tip of his tongue. It died quickly at the sword that was placed right on his throat, drawing a little bit of blood.

“What are you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and deftly knocked the sword away from Peter’s throat with his own sword. He positioned himself in front of the wolf. “He’s a friend.”

The man’s face was completely blank. Peter now noticed that his heartbeat was extremely slow, which was weird. They were just finishing a fight and all the adrenaline should have made the heart pump. “You look like a higher vampire, but didn’t move like one.”

“Your heartbeat is extremely slow, what are _you_?” Peter couldn’t help himself. He could _hear_ Stiles rolled his eyes.

The man turned his eyes toward the teen, which Peter now realized were slits like a cat, just like Stiles’. _Was he a witcher too?_

_Wait, were the cat-like eyes Stiles’ actual eyes, or was it an illusion?_

“Where did you get that necklace?” The man’s face turned into a scowl. He let out a human growl, which by no means less intimidating than a wolf’s. Peter was impressed.

“My mother gave it to me,” Stiles answered, heartbeat steady.

The man’s voice got impossibly deeper. “You’re a witcher who couldn’t afford a silver sword and yet you got a valuable necklace that could buy you an entire mansion on Novigrad. You might want to work on your lies a little bit better.”

“I did not lie,” Stiles said. “This is a family heirloom.”

“Yeah, no witcher held a fond memory over families that abandon them. Try. Again.”

Peter smirked at Stiles and stage-whispered, “Just tell him that we came from the future.”

“What.” The man stared even more intently at Stiles.

“Fuck, ” Stiles groaned loudly and threw his hands on the air. “Let’s freaking hope that this won’t have a major change on the future, shall we? Because I can’t even think about it right now.”

The man looked at Stiles like the kid was crazy. The amazing thing was he had all those emotions conveyed with minimum pulling of face muscle. He glanced a bit at Peter who shrugged.

Peter found it that he liked watching people being overwhelmed by the teen.

“Okay, this might sound crazy, but I came from the future. I’ve heard a lot of stories about you and also I’m Ciri’s great-great-great-grandson.” Stiles said after a while. “And before you ask, yes, I have the _gift_.”

The man stared at Stiles without blinking for a long moment. Then finally he dropped his sword.

“But you’re a witcher.” It was a statement, but his tone was confused and concerned.

“It’s a glamour－illusion.” Stiles finally dropped his magic, revealing back his original eye color. “The Elder Blood made my mutation a bit different. It’s a long story, we could talk more after this. Chris must be worried.”

The man grunted, then he turned toward the dead creature. “Fine. Take the trophy, collect our rewards then we talk.”

Stiles beamed and did a little victory dance. Peter sent him an amused look. The teen approached the white-haired man and helped severing the creature’s head.

“You know, it’s good that you seemed to know who this man is, Stiles. But we haven’t properly introduced ourselves to each other yet.” Peter clapped his hands together. “So, let me go first. I’m Peter, that young man is Mieczysław, but he goes by Stiles. Our friend from before is Chris. What’s your name?”

The white-haired witcher grabbed the severed creature’s head and stood up. He offered his free hand to shake Peter’s.

“I’m Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, I hope you enjoyed the little BAMFness!


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